


Seeking Freedom

by Riverrock32



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 20:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 60
Words: 72,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18534583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riverrock32/pseuds/Riverrock32





	1. Chapter 1

Franky waited outside the governors office as her escorting officer knocked smartly. The invite was muffled and Franky blew out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She stepped into Vera's office and waited for the invite to sit. Prison and it's fucking sense of etiquette. Vera dismissed the guard and fixed her eyes on Franky. She indicated to the chair in front of her desk. "Doyle?"

Franky took a seat and looked at her. There was no malice in her inflection. There was no hidden 'I told you so'. There was no disappointment. Franky sighed internally. There was also no indication that they had shared a meal together. There was no acknowledgment of the gems of insight Franky had offered her, nor was there any sadness for the big dead elephant in the room. ..a woman they had both desperately tried to help.

No, there was none of this in her tone. She was locked tightly, hidden behind a stiff suit and a golden crown.

The two women met eyes for a moment. Franky could feel the weariness roll off of her shoulders and collide midair with the matching exhaustion coming from the governor. They looked at each other, two shot up soldiers, on the same side but pulled apart and strewn across the vastness of a very complicated system.

"I need to see Ms. Westfall."

Vera laughed once, incredulous. She looked hard at Franky, and a flicker of remorse crossed her features. And then it was gone. She was stern. "We both know that cannot happen."

Franky raised her arms and her voice. "What's it to you? It's not like we're going to do anything!"

The governor frowned slightly. "Tone, Doyle."

Franky sighed in exasperation and raised her hands again, only this time in surrender. "I just need to talk to her." She whispered. She hadn't come here for a fight.

Vera shook her head. "I've already advised Ms. Westfall to maintain distance from you and she has agreed that this is the most appropriate…and safest thing to do. Surely you don't disagree? With Bridget?"

Her eyes narrowed in a challenge. Franky didn't know it, but Bridget had boldly lied to see Franky and then explained her behavior to Vera by saying, 'I can't help it. I love her.' Vera really liked Bridget. And she liked Franky, she really did. She still didn't understand what a classy woman such as Bridget saw in Franky, but she saw the way they looked at each other. How they spoke. How they touched. The adoration was clear, and Vera knew they were in love even before Bridget blurted it out yesterday. Of course she knew.

But here was Franky, sitting in front of her, in the teal. It took all Vera's will power to remain stoic. She saw Bridget's pain and Franky was basically pleading with her. It was a characteristic she'd not witnessed before. Franky didn't beg. It crushed Vera's heart, but she had a prison to run. A prison under a lot of scrutiny at the moment. She needed her staff united and she didn't need any trouble from Franky Doyle.

Franky hadn't answered either the verbal or non verbal question. She just bit her lip and pleaded with her eyes one last time.

"No, Franky. Just stay away from her. ..for both your sakes."

Franky lowered her eyes for a moment. When she raised them again, they were green stone. She stood. "Can I go now?"

Vera nodded. And Franky turned away, unable to shake the last thing Bridget whispered to her as her heart broke. Why couldn't you trust me?


	2. Chapter 2

Allie opened Franky's cell door and leaned against the doorway. She smiled. "You cleaned up."

Franky was laying on her bed, her arm around her head. She shrugged. "Yeah well it looks like I'll be here for a while."

Allie came inside and shut the cell door behind her. She sat at the edge of the bed and sighed. "Is that why you put on the teal?"

Franky shrugged again. She wasn't in the mood to explain herself to this woman. Allie looked at the kite and a slow smile spread across her face. She nodded. "Ok." She said simply. "Nice wall art."

Franky shot her a look but Allie raised her hands. "It suits you."

She reached out and poked Franky's shoe. "You're going to get out of here, you know."

Franky huffed. "You reckon?" There was a bite in her tone. Allie frowned. "Franky, what is it? Has something happened?"

Franky huffed again. "You mean something else?" Her tone was bitter. Allie remained quiet, her face compassionate. Franky sighed and sat up.

"I…lied to the one person I care about the most to protect her. Only it wasn't protecting her, it was fucking tearing us apart."

"Ms. Westfall?"

Franky looked up at her quickly, a dangerous warning flashed in her eyes. Allie inadvertently sat back. "You attacked Ferguson when she mentioned her." She lowered her voice. "Are you two…?"

Franky sighed. Damn this girl. If she had been anyone else Franky would have told her to fuck off long before now. But Bea had absolutely loved her, and talking to her was like talking to Bea. Allie was a safe person, but it still rose Franky's hackles when her insight pushed through Franky's walls. She sighed.

"Not until I got out."

Allie frowned in empathy. "No shit. And now you can't go near her." She reached out and gently touched Franky's leg. "I'm sorry." She said softly.

Franky moved her leg and sat up. "I messed up." She said miserably. "I wasn't fully honest with her about everything that happened to land me in here. She found out from someone else." Pain leaked out in her voice. "She says I didn't trust her."

The full weight of their last conversation hit Franky and she lowered her head. She tried not to cry but she couldn't help it. Bridget was the only thing in her life that mattered to her, and now she had lost her. Franky's shoulders shook as her body was suddenly racked in sobs.

Allie didn't hesitate, but scooted closer and threw her arms around Franky. She ignored the initial stiffness in the other woman and held her until Franky gave in and melted in her arms. She rocked her gently as the storm of misery washed over Franky and until her tears began to subside. Allie wiped a stand of hair from Franky's face and continued to hold her.

"It's not over, yet, Franky. It's not."

Franky pulled away and wiped her face. "I don't know what to do. I've stuffed everything up."

Allie shrugged. "Maybe, but where there is love, there's hope, yeah?"

Franky huffed at the cliché but looked into Allie's face. Under the compassion was a deep hurt that was embedded in her eyes. Her love was dead. Franky reached for her hand and squeezed it. Allie smiled at her.

"Give Ms. Westfall time to think things through. This had to be a hell of a shock for her."

Franky sighed miserably. "I should have told her everything as it was happening before the whole fucking thing unraveled."

Allie shrugged. "Maybe." She said again. "But true love is rare. She's not going to let you go this easily."

Franky looked up at her, hope flashing across her face. Then her expression darkened. "I shouldn't have gone after Ferguson. She knows."

Allie sat back against the wall. "That twisted fuck."

Franky laughed once. Allie looked sharply at her. "I know we need different things. I promise not to kill her until we get you out."

Franky was about to argue that Allie couldn't win against the Freak, but she recognized the dead pan resolution in the other woman's eyes. All she had to do was look in the mirror. Instead she only whispered, "thank you."


	3. Chapter 3

The next two days were arguably the worst in Franky's life. She hadn't been assigned work duty yet, and spent most of her endless hours locked in her cell. Whenever she emerged, Boomer was at her side, and Franky was truly grateful. She made a point to listen more to her large friend, always knowing in the back of her mind that her years in prison were mostly spent selfishly using Boomer to suit her own agenda. She had taken for granted Boomer's love for her, and never fully appreciated who she was. On the moments Franky left her cell, she sought out Boomer intentionally. It was easy to do, as the big dufus always seemed to be looking for her. She listened to endless stories of Boomer's sister, who was still a slut, and Boomer's dedicated vows to be the mother of Maxine's baby. Her simple mind had no plans for the how, but the why was obvious. Boomer, though course and simple, knew how to love. And her love was unashamed and permanent.

When she wasn't with Boomer, she spent quiet cups of tea with Liz. Liz carefully avoided the fact that Franky had stuffed up so badly. Instead told Franky about her kids, her upcoming parole, life with Kaz as top dog. She showed Franky the newest crochet project she was working on. Little topics that didn't hardly scratch the surface. Liz didn't ask Franky any questions that would cause her pain. She instinctively knew to keep it light. Franky seemed unbearably tense, but Liz saw her relax somewhat during their gentle conversations.

Allie came by too, always uninvited, always bold. She never waited for Franky to come out of her cell. She would come to her, open the door, and let herself in. After the first few times, Franky stopped feeling irritated. She smiled to herself when she realized how Allie won over Bea. She was fearless, and damn persistent. In truth, Franky felt that only Allie fully understood her grief over Bea. They would sit next to each other in quiet sadness, lost in their own thoughts. Sometimes they would talk, but mostly Allie simply sat with her for a while. She would leave as quietly as she came.

Franky would see Bridget in the halls sometimes. The older woman could always sense her presence and would carefully keep her face neutral, or she wouldn't acknowledge Franky at all. She immersed herself in her work, her surroundings, her conversations. ..anything to avoid making full on eye contact with Franky. Franky didn't have words to describe the agony this caused. She was right there, but a million miles away.

Franky was in her cell, alone and sitting on the floor. She looked at the kite she had made from the scraps of magazine pictures Boomer had tried to decorate her cell with. Her mind began to wander as she stared at the symbol of her freedom. She didn't hear the staccato footsteps coming to her door, and was damn startled when Vera entered her cell. She narrowed her eyes and bit her tongue.

Vera stood in the doorway and cleared her throat. "I'd like you to talk to Ms. Westfall."

Franky jumped to her feet. "What? What changed your mind?"

Vera looked away a moment. "You put on the teal." She said simply.

Franky read between the lines. Vera cared. Franky's heart melted towards the little woman in front of her. "I haven't given up," she said softy.

Vera turned her steely eyes on Franky. "Good. Then you won't have to hear me tell you I'm disappointed in you." There was a ghost of a smile on her lips. Franky grinned at her and made as if to follow her out of her cell, but Vera raised a hand for her to stop. She backed out of the cell, and to Franky's utter surprise, Bridget walked in. Vera looked back at her once and then left, closing the door behind her.

Franky's heart pounded and she backed against the far wall, desperate for the support. Was this it? Was this the end? She looked fleetingly into the severe blue eyes staring at her.

Bridget's voice was barely above a whisper. "One chance, Franky. Tell me everything."

Franky sucked in a breath. And then quietly started from the beginning. Bea and the phone. Shane. Niles Jasper. The gun. Mike. The photos. The phone calls. The threats. The attack. As she spoke she felt the burden of her secrets cascade off of her heart in blissful waves. Why hadn't she done this sooner? It was too late to curse herself. Bridget's expression didn't change throughout Franky's confessions. It remained impassive…impossible to read. Franky took a deep breath. It was now or never.

"I tried to tell ya a dozen times, Gidge. I did. But I thought I could handle it and I didn't want you to have to pay for my stuff ups. When I was arrested they told me when Mike was killed. It was past my curfew and I wasn't at the bedsit. I was in bed with you. ..and we weren't sleeping." Franky paused but then pressed forward, unable to look at Bridget anymore. She looked at her kite. "I didn't have an alibi that wouldn't cost you everything. It was either you or freedom. I chose you. I'm. ..I'm sorry, but I'll always choose you." Franky could feel the tears in her eyes but she held them in took another breath. "I chose you, Gidge, because I love ya. I love us. With everything that's in me I love being with you."

"Stop." Bridget suddenly commanded. "Just stop being so. .."

She closed the gap between them and threw her arms around Franky. "Stop being so fucking vulnerable. You're killing me."

Franky hugged her tightly and burst into tears. "Shit, Gidge, don't do that to me! I thought. .."

But Bridget reached up and pulled her face down for a kiss. They remained pressed against each other for a moment but then their mouths moved in their familiar love. Franky broke away first and turned her head and buried it in Bridget's shoulder, feeling the other woman's strong arms around her, laden with support.

"Gidge, I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry I should have told ya. This is all my fault." She couldn't stop her tears. She felt herself trembling in Bridget's arms.

Bridget held onto her for dear life and whispered, "baby, baby, " over and over, her own tears falling on Franky's neck.

Franky lost track of how long she stayed like that, holding and being held. All she knew was that Bridget was in her arms, clutching her tightly and whispering words of encouragement and love. They gently rocked each other as their tears subsided. Bridget pulled away first, but reluctantly. She held onto Franky's hands as she scanned her cell. Her eyes settled on the kite and she smiled. "There you are," she whispered.

Franky smiled at her. Ferguson had said the same thing to her in the dining room. The difference was that one woman truly saw her, and the other was just a fucking psyco.

"I'm going to find out who it was, Gidge. I swear it."

Bridget raised her hands to cup her face. "We are going to find out, my love. You aren't alone anymore."

Franky caught her in a kiss again, passionate, desperate; grateful.

A quiet cough behind them startled them, and they pulled apart. Vera was in the doorway. "Ms. Westfall." She said calmly.

Bridget squeezed Franky's arms one last time and gently brushed a stand of hair from her face. "Hang in there," she said softly.

She moved past Vera out of the cell, and when Vera turned to leave Franky caught her, threw caution to the wind, and hugged the little woman hard. Vera gasped in her strong embrace, but allowed herself the moment of raw affection.

When she pulled away she smiled in spite of herself. "Ok, Doyle. Ok."

Franky beamed at her. Vera looked at her intently. "You're her match, you know."

She wasn't talking about Bridget. Franky nodded. Vera looked at her one more time, sighed, and left.

Franky reached out and touched the paper kite, determination hardening her features. One cannot deny the animal within. "En garde, you fucking freak."


	4. Chapter 4

Franky was pacing. She couldn't sleep, and had since left her cell and walked aimlessly around the common area. She'd sacked the lawyer that Bridget had generously hired. There was no fucking way she'd admit to manslaughter! She was desperately torn about the gun. If she revised her statement she'd admit to lying to the police. She'd also put Shane in a bad way. The kid was finally getting his feet under him. She'd promised to look out for him, and that certainly didn't include shooting him to the cops. ..even if it might mean she could be free. No, there had to be another way. She'd studied the law for years now, and had seen the system in action for months at her job with Legal Relief. She sighed. The system was not in her favor. She was an ex crim and the man she'd been put away for assaulting was now dead. Franky stopped pacing and rubbed the heels of her palms into her tired eyes. Holy fuck what a mess. Too many bits of the puzzle led back to her. Looking from the cops standpoint, she was the obvious suspect. Of course she was. It took all her will power not to simply curl up and give in.

As she quietly moved around the common area she reflected on her time in prison before her release. She barely recognized the woman she'd been then. Angry, impulsive, flirtatious. ..her bored mind latching on to anything she deemed a challenge. ..just to stay sane.

Franky stopped suddenly. "Fuck." She whispered quietly. She ran back to her cell and grabbed a pen and paper feverishly beginning to write. When she was finished she re read her words with satisfaction. She smiled, her first in days. Maybe. Just maybe. ..

The next morning she sat in the governor's office. Vera took her sweet time reading her letter. Franky waited impatiently, bouncing her knee. Finally Vera looked up. She shook her head and then nodded.

"Well I hadn't thought of this, Doyle. Are you certain?"

Franky nodded. "I am."

Vera laughed once as she scanned the letter again. This was going to be interesting. "You are aware that there is no guarantee that she will accept your case?"

Franky nodded, still bouncing her knee. Vera shrugged and then nodded again. "I'll see that it's posted. It's certainly your prerogative who you'd like your lawyer to be." She lowered her voice. "Have you informed Ms. Westfall of this?"

Franky stopped bouncing her knee. "No. I wanted to run it by you first."

"If you are asking for my advice. .."

"I'm not." Franky cut in stubbornly. Vera sighed.

"If you are asking for my advice I'd tell you not to get your hopes up. This is a long shot, Doyle." She looked at the letter again. "If she accepts then I will have her placed on the visitors list immediately."

Franky grinned at her and stood to leave. As her escorting officer led her away, Vera called out, "Don't be late again for your psych appointment this afternoon, Doyle. Ms. Westfall doesn't have the time to waste on you."

Franky looked back at her and barely kept her face neutral. Her green eyes sparkled and Vera raised an eyebrow. Franky shrugged as if bored. "Yes, Governor."


	5. Chapter 5

Bridget sat at her desk and tried to concentrate on the evaluation she was composing. She always made it a point in her profession to listen to her patients with her full attention, and only when they had left did she begin to write. But her mind wasn't on the report in front of her. It was on the lanky brunette that would be escorted into her office in fifteen minutes. She looked at the clock for the umpteenth time. Fourteen minutes.

Bridget tapped a few sentences on her laptop, but stopped. She let her mind wander through the events that had transpired over just one week. One fucking impossible week. She had seen Franky through the processing window and her look of panic and sadness was etched in Bridget's mind. Thankfully Vera had stopped her from going to her. She had been an emotional fool, running down the hallway once she heard the news.

Bridget rubbed her eyes. Their meeting in the stairwell was brief and loaded. Franky admitted to being stalked by Mike. Bridget had felt the first pangs of betrayal then. Franky promised that her silence was to protect Bridget, but fuck! With their combined contacts in the legal system it would never have gone this far!

When she stole a forbidden moment with Franky after hours, she recalled the frantic way they held each other. Franky kissed her desperately and her whispered wail of 'fuck I want to come home' broke apart Bridget's feelings of betrayal. She had barely held her voice together as she clutched her lover. 'I want you to come home' was all she could say in return, to convey her forgiveness and love.

But then there had been the unveiling of more secrets. A gun with Franky's DNA on it. Franky sacking the lawyer Bridget had hired for her. Bridget had thrown Vera's command to stay away from Franky out the window and had caught up with the brunette by the laundry. Inmates were everywhere but Bridget literally couldn't contain herself. Doubt dripped from every word. Franky gave a quick and unsatisfying response. Bridget had needed more, but Franky had picked up on her doubt and her defenses went up. Her tone became an urgent challenge. Really? I'm a liar and a murder? Is that it? Is that what you think?

Bridget couldn't bear the sight of her, all her panic and fear shrouded in a thick blanket of fierce hurt.

I've risked everything for you, why couldn't you trust me?

Bridget reeled at her own words. She risked her job for Franky. Franky had risked her freedom. It was clear who had laid more on the line, but in her hurt and anger Bridget had uncharacteristically lashed out. She didn't even give Franky a chance to respond. Her tears were threatening to spill out and she had already publicly cornered the inmate for too long. She stalked away before her composer collapsed.

Bridget looked at the clock on her office again and drummed her fingers impatiently on her desk. Twelve minutes.

In the days that followed that heated whisper, Bridget could barely look at Franky. It was impossible to avoid seeing her in the prison, but Bridget was determined not meet that emerald stare. She couldn't bare it. Franky hadn't trusted her. She had thought Bridget needed protecting. She didn't see them as equals. Each time she sensed Franky near she averted her eyes, and it damn near killed her to do so.

She heard Vera's voice in the back of her mind. She put on the teal.

Bridget had stared at her, uncomprehending at first. Vera had clicked her tongue, waiting for Bridget to catch on. Finally it sunk in. Weeks before the trial, and Franky had her civilian clothes. She didn't need the teal. She was coming home. But Vera's hushed information spoke volumes. Franky was giving up. She was sinking all alone in the dark and freezing depths of prison life. The Franky that Bridget loved more than life itself was slipping into survival mode. Old Franky mode. A mindset that could get her a life sentence if her anger and impulsive nature got the better of her. And why shouldn't it? She'd lost all hope. Bridget saw it in her face as she had stalked away, too hurt to realize what she had done to the brunette.

She had looked at Vera then. Whatever else the little governor was, when it came to Bridget and Franky a definite soft spot was evident. 'Please.' Bridget begged quietly.

Vera huffed at her. 'You'll only find a way to see her behind my back if I don't let you.'

Bridget had smiled sheepishly. Vera held up a hand. 'You will trust me. When the moment is right I will make it happen.'

True to her word, in a few days Vera had come for her. When Bridget entered Franky's cell the other woman had backed away from her. Bridget's heart plunged in her chest, but she kept her face carefully neutral. The next few moments were everything. She had waited for Vera to leave before turning her full stare at Franky. For a fleeting moment she could almost feel the soft olive skin against hers, but she locked that thought away. Franky's intoxicating hold on her aside, Bridget needed the truth. One chance she had said.

Even though she had forced her facial expression to remain stoic, she was shattered internally at the full confession laid at her feet. Holy fuck! Almost killed in an ally trying to save a delinquent. Handling and dumping a gun. Mike's threatening phone calls. The fucking blow torch in her face.

But Franky didn't stop there. She not only laid the truth at Bridget's feet, she laid down her heart as well. All of it in one last ditch effort to keep the old self at bay.

Bridget didn't recall what she had said but she clearly remembered closing the gap between them, physically and emotionally. The feel of Franky's strong arms around her, the feel of her tremble, the warm wetness of her tears against Bridget's neck. ..for the first time in their relationship Bridget had felt shame. As she held her equal; her partner, she vowed to never again doubt her.

Bridget looked at the clock again. Ten minutes. For fucks sake was it broken? She shut her laptop with a sigh. The report could wait. She wasn't getting anywhere with it anyway. Her eyes absentmindedly gazed at her fingers, still drumming her desk top. She slowed their motion and traced little circles on the wood. Her eyes glazed over and she smiled to herself. Tracing little circles was something that she loved to do on Franky. Given the right spot, those little circles would make the brunette scream her name. Bridget hummed gently and closed her eyes, conjuring up the image of her lover in the throes of an orgasm caused by Bridget's caress. She would forever be thrilled and awed by Franky.

The sudden sharp knock on her office door snapped Bridget's mind into focus. Damn that clock! Now she was seriously aroused and had to maintain a professional calm. "Come in." She called. Thank god her voice was steady.

The officer entered first, and then there she was. Franky kept her face impassive in the presence of the officer, but as soon as he left she strode forward quickly and caught Bridget's mouth in hers. Bridget was already on fire and pushed Franky up against her desk, needing to feel her slender body pressed against her own.

Franky caught her face. "Jesus, Gidge." She murmured.

But Bridget shook her head free and attacked Franky's jaw and neck with ardent kisses. Her hands trailed up Franky's sides and then pushed under her tank top, anxious for the feel of her skin.

"Oh, fuck, woman!" Franky moaned. "Don't you fucking dare start something you can't finish!"

Bridget pressed her forehead into Franky's chest, which was easy to do with flats on. She breathed out a huge sigh and reluctantly removed her hands from underneath Franky's tank. She wrapped them instead around her middle, feeling the ache of pent up passion in her body. The burn in her core was almost unbearable.

Franky's heart hammered in the ear Bridget had pressed against her chest. The brunette stroked Bridget's spine up and down slowly, feeling the heat radiate off of her. "Fuck, woman," She whispered again. She turned Bridget until it was her back against the desk. She slid her knee between the blonde's legs and Bridget looked sharply at her, almost in terror.

Franky moved her leg until Bridget was straddling her. She smiled and cupped the blonde's face. "Just try to be quiet, yeah?" She grinned as she pushed her knee into Bridget's burning center.

Bridget gasped, startled by her own need, and grabbed Franky's face as the other woman moved against her. Franky had to cover her mouth as she came, all the while grinning into her hair. "Jesus, I've barely touched you, Gidge."

Bridget was still coming down. She wrapped her arms around Franky and breathed in her scent, trying to control her pounding heart. That was certainly a first for her. Bare contact and she erupts like a teenager! She laughed quietly. "See what you do to me?"

Franky brushed her hair away from her face. The short stands were a bit more wild then when she first entered the office. She laughed and kissed Bridget tenderly. "If I'd known you were that easy, Gidge, I would have jumped you a lot sooner. .."

Bridget laughed with her, a flush rising in her cheeks. She gently pushed Franky away and pointed to the seat in front of her desk. Franky raised her eyebrows in mock hurt. "You sure know how to make a girl feel used!"

Bridget huffed at her and smoothed her skirt down. She sat behind her desk and gave Franky her best professional stare. She couldn't do it though, and laughed with the other woman. "I'll make it up to you next time, I promise." She whispered. She sat back, her voice volume back to normal. "Now what is it that you wanted to see me about? Vera mentioned a letter? "


	6. Chapter 6

"So who is she, this lawyer you are writing to?"

Franky sighed. Vera had called it a long shot. "Her name is Erica Davidson…or something. She was getting married so I don't know her last name."

Bridget frowned. "How do you know her?"

Franky bounced her knee absentmindedly. ..a tic Bridget knew to mean Franky was uncomfortable. The brunette looked at her. "She was governor here, after Mrs. Jackson. She only stayed a short while and then left to become a lawyer."

Bridget eyed Franky's bouncing knee. "You fired the best lawyer in the region. What makes you so certain this. ..Erica. ..can do better?"

"He wanted me to admit to manslaughter!" Franky couldn't help but raise her voice. Bridget put up a hand calmingly. "All I'm saying is that you didn't have to fire him, baby. Lawyers have to proceed how you tell them to."

Franky shook her head. "He didn't believe me."

Bridget sighed, exasperated. "So what? Tell him what you told me! He will work the system in your favor. That's his job! It's not to late to call him. "

Franky shook her head again. "No."

Bridget narrowed her eyes. "Is it because he's a him?"

Franky scoffed. "It's because he's a dick." She put up a hand to stop further argument. "Look Gidge, I get that he's the best, but he's not the best for me, ok? Can you trust me on this one?"

Bridget bit back her retort, remembering all too recently her internal promise to stop doubting her lover. "I'm just sick with worry, Franky. I feel so helpless."

Franky reached across her desk and took her hand. "I know," she said softly. "I am too. But Erica will help me. I know she will."

Bridget raised her eyebrow. "You're bouncing."

Franky stopped bouncing her knee immediately. "I'm not."

Bridget huffed at her childishness. Franky sighed. "I liked her, ok? You didn't know me back then, but I was a devilish flirt."

She smiled crookedly at Bridget, who raised her eyebrows. Franky was still a devilish flirt, only now it was solely directed towards Bridget. She lifted her hand from Franky's and folded them. "Go on."

Franky began to bounce again, but caught herself. "Oh come on. You know how boring it is in here. What's more stimulating than trying after the governor?"

Bridget pursed her lips. Franky pleaded with her eyes but Bridget shook her head. Franky looked at the ceiling. "You aren't going to let this go, are you? Fine, I…kissed her. In her office."

Bridget didn't expect that. "You what?"

"It didn't mean anything, I swear. I was just being a dick. She was getting married, I was just messing with her."

Bridget tilted her head. "So I'm not the first woman in authority you've chased?"

Franky groaned. "Argh. Could this get any more uncomfortable? It was nothing. She shot me down every time."

Bridget stood and walked slowly towards her. When she was in front of Franky she leaned over and put her hands on either armrest, essentially trapping Franky in the chair. Her tone was dangerously low. "Because she knew that no fraternizing with an inmate was the number one rule?"

Franky leaned back, and looked into those severe blue eyes. "Right." She said carefully.

Bridget lifted a finger and touched Franky's cheek, slowly tracing the outline of her face. "Because she knew that to do so would get her sacked?"

Franky remained still. There was a cobra touching her, and all her instincts warned her to freeze. Bridget brought her face close. "Because she was smarter than me?"

Franky stayed rigid under that smoldering stare. This was definitely a side of Bridget she'd not seen. It was fucking frightening…and it was turning her on. She leaned her head back as Bridget's finger traced down her throat, finally resting on her pulse. Franky's heartbeat was jumping erratically. Franky reached up and grabbed the hand on her throat. "She is nothing like you."

Bridget leaned in close. "Mine." She growled huskily. Franky blew out a breath. Holy fuck. "All yours." She confirmed.

She looked into Bridget's eyes and for the first time noticed the tiny crinkles around them. Was she. ..? "Holy shit, are you fucking with me?"

Bridget straightened up and grinned at her. Franky put her head in her hands. "Jesus, Gidge!" She groaned.

Bridget laughed and knelt down in front of her. "I'm sorry, baby. God I miss you. You're getting rusty. You always can tell when I'm teasing you!"

Franky glared at her. "Well I'm not usually this fucking stressed out, am I?" As she looked at Bridget she couldn't help but smile crookedly. She reached out and grabbed the older woman and dragged her onto her lap. Bridget laughed again and kissed her passionately. For that one moment they were in their living room, alone, free, safe, with the sun shining through the open windows on a lazy Saturday morning.

Franky groaned into her mouth and Bridget was brought back to reality. Where they were. Where anyone could suddenly walk in and see them. She pulled back. Franky's skin was on fire and she groaned again, pulling Bridget back into her.

"Franky." She murmured.

Franky held onto her. "No fucking way. If we get caught it'll be your fault."

Bridget squirmed against her but Franky wasn't going to let her go, and Franky was stronger than she was. The brunette held her close, scraping her teeth on Bridget's collarbone and whispering softly into her neck, "put your hands on me, Gidge."

Bridget tried one last time to break free but Franky wouldn't budge, and made a low keening sound in the back of her throat. "Touch me…please. I need you."

The desperation and desire in her voice, roughened by arousal, disarmed Bridget completely. She wrapped one arm around Franky's neck and slid the other down between them, ghosting her fingertips between Franky's legs. The other woman gasped and Bridget caught her lips with her own, smiling into them. "Just try to be quiet, yeah?"


	7. Chapter 7

Ferguson watched Franky move across the yard. Her black eyes smoldering with hatred. What had changed? What had happened since that glorious outburst in the dining area? In a bare few days she had gone from a wounded animal, to a worthy adversary, to a broken shell (Ferguson's favorite), and back to the cocky and insufferable woman Ferguson had first met. What had changed? She was in the teal, wasn't she? Curiosity got the better of the former governor and she got up, casually strolling over to Franky.

Franky wasn't alone. She rarely was. That ridiculous Jenkins was sitting next to her, as well as Birdsworth, the delectable Doreen, and the scrappy little blond Smith had been so taken with. As she sauntered up to them, their conversation stopped. Ferguson's eyes narrowed maliciously when Franky casually rested a hand on Novak's arm.

"Hello everybody." She said pleasantly.

Franky was the only one who met her stare. "Fuck off." She said, equally pleasant. Ferguson imagined for a moment how it would feel to wrap her large hands around that slender neck. She smiled at the thought. "Where's Maxine?" She asked Boomer, her voice dripping with concern.

Boomer got to her feet but Franky was quicker. "We heard you got a bit of sour news, hey? Conspiracy theory not sticking? What a disappointment!" Franky's mock horror caused the other women to chuckle. "And here I thought we'd be rid of you." Franky shrugged theatrically. "Pity."

Ferguson froze, her soulless eyes boring into the sparkling emerald ones staring back at her. She could see the barely concealed rage behind the green twinkle. She smiled.

"Yes, well as disappointed as I am in the justice system concerning me. ..i have no doubt it'll serve you. ..plenty of time."

Franky smiled again, and this time it didn't touch her eyes. She was showing her teeth. "Lucky you aren't the only one who has friends on the outside. ..only mine tend to help people, not murder them."

Ferguson chucked, finding delight in the sparing. "Oh I think murder. ..has its merits. .." She winked at Allie. Franky took a step closer and Ferguson actually held her breath. Please, oh please, do it!

But Allie stood quickly and made as if to lunge at her. Her grin broadened as Franky threw her arms around her to stop her. "Go back to the unit." She said quietly. "All of you, back to the unit."

Ferguson couldn't help but secretly admire the force of the quiet command. The creature in front of her wielded such rich and unbridled power! If only she had been more like Vera…easily molded clay…what fun that would have been!

She watched as the women wordlessly, albeit unhappily, followed the order. From the corner of her eye she saw Kaz stop playing ball to watch. She leaned towards Franky conspiratorially. "Careful, Doyle. You act an awful lot like a top dog…people are staring…"

Franky didn't look away from Ferguson. "There's nothing you can do, and it's killing you, isn't it?" She said quietly.

Ferguson arched an eyebrow. "And whatever do you mean?"

Franky smiled again, a freezing smile that thrilled Ferguson to her core. She waited on bated breath for a reply, yearned for it…but Franky simply turned her back and walked casually away. Don't you turn your back on ME! Her mind screamed. "You may be interested to know that I will see Ms. Westfall this afternoon." She called out, barely above a whisper. Franky froze, and turned slowly. Ferguson inwardly celebrated her victory. "Oh yes." She said. "I do enjoy our time together. ..alone. ..uninterrupted."

Franky walked back to face her, deliciously threatening. Intoxicatingly close. Ferguson's smile widened. "There's just so much I could talk about with her." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "So much I could do…to her." She flicked at a piece of lint on her sleeve before looking back at Franky innocently. "She's a frail little thing, isn't she? So. ..tiny…so breakable."

Franky took a shuddered breath, and Ferguson gleefully waited. Please, oh please!

"DOYLE!" The normally docile voice of the wretched Mr. Jackson boomed across the yard and grated on Ferguson's nerves. It broke the blissful and pending electric violence between her and the woman in front of her. She turned her blistering gaze to the rapidly approaching man.

He ignored her completely. Now that he was near his inflection became normal. "You have a visitor. Your. ..new lawyer." He glanced swiftly at Ferguson and then looked away. She raised an eyebrow. What was this, now?

Franky looked one last time at Ferguson. This time, her smile touched her eyes. "Not a fucking thing you can do." She said softly.

Mr. Jackson put a hand on her upper arm, leading her away. "Let's go, Doyle."

Ferguson watched them leave, and then scanned the yard again. Ahh! There was her little worm. She made eye contact with Jake and nodded ever so slightly. He frowned, but nodded back. Good puppy.


	8. Chapter 8

Franky followed Mr. Jackson into the privacy of the counseling room where she saw, to her utter surprise, her old boss. "Where's Erica?" She blurted.

Judge Westler raised her eyebrows and smiled at her. "Well hello to you too, Franky."

Franky took the seat opposite from her and shook her head. "Sorry. Hi. But I was expecting someone else."

The judge nodded. "Yes, Mrs. Davidson…sorry…Mrs. Altman now…tracked me down and showed me the letter you wrote her. She's unable to take your case, Franky, but lucky for you I can."

Franky tucked away the last of her shock and smiled at her. "I am the lucky one." She said warmly. "Can you get me out of here?"

The judged sighed. "You never do anything the easy way, do you? Come on. Let's go over it all, and Franky," her look became stern, "tell me everything."

As grateful as Franky was for the Judge Westler's excellent council, her mind still raced with the interaction she'd had with Ferguson in the yard. Would she dare? She thought desperately. Would she dare touch Bridget?

She left the counseling room lighter in some ways and heavier in others. Within the hour Shane had not only come to see her, but had pushed his fear aside and committed to stand with her. That afternoon he would go to the cops and tell them everything…knowing that it meant he would go to Walford for it. His determination was born from Franky's belief in him. He'd not see her rot in prison if he could help it. Franky looked at him with such warm pride. He was too good for this world.

Back in the common area of her unit, Franky absentmindedly scribbled over a magazine picture. She was supposed to be going over her notes, but she was sick with worry. Shane would be at the police station in twenty minutes, throwing his freedom away for hers. Her stomach was so in knots that she let Allie make her a cup of tea. She smiled internally at their banter, and felt the first twinges of a real friendship with the other woman. Not because of what Bea had told her, but for who she was. Franky could see the light in her Bea had tried to describe. It was impossibly bright, even shrouded in teal and surrounded by this concrete hell hole.

"Mail, Franky." Will Jackson unceremoniously tossed her mail on the table. Franky smiled at his back and then scanned the letters. She couldn't believe it, but she was still getting fan mail. But then her fingers brushed against a pale blue envelope. There was no return address. Inside was a simple folded piece of paper. When she unfolded it her breath caught in her throat. Allie walked over and handed her a cup of tea. "What is it?"

Franky dumbly held out the paper. On it was a drawing of a kite, entwined in barbed wire, with the word FREEDOM underneath it, heavily drawn in black ink. Allie looked confused. "What is it?"

Franky's mind was already racing. She'd never told anyone, not even Gidget, the true meaning behind the necklace she'd bought months before. Until she met with Mike in the coffee shop. He'd suddenly pointed to it and asked about it. It means freedom she had told him. And then here it was, plain as day long after Mike was in the ground. Someone else knew. Who did he tell? Jesus Christ he had known the person that murdered him! Franky pounded her hands down on the table. Allie stepped back, startled. "Franky?"

Franky suddenly looked up at her in horror. "Shane!" She bolted from the common area, leaving Allie frowning down at the picture.

She'd barely made it. The kid was just entering the cop shop as she rang him. He sounded confused, but relieved. "Then who was it?" He'd asked.

"I don't know but it couldn't have been Ferguson."

Their conversation had been brief, and when Franky hung up the phone and moved aside, she leaned up against the wall heavily. She'd almost ruined a young man's life with her assumptions. Hadn't Bridget warned her earlier today that Ferguson was trying too hard to make her believe she'd orchestrated the whole thing? Franky had only gotten angry, thinking Bridget didn't believe her still. Just stay away, she had said. It was almost as if the crazy, hot, euphoric moment they had shared in Bridget's office had never happened. They were back at whispered odds. ..again. Bridget had wanted to hire a private investigator. Franky had shot her down. It all would lead back to Bridget and her...and Gidge would lose her job and her credibility as a psychologist forever. Franky couldn't bear that thought. Bridget was excellent at her job and the women truly needed her. She also couldn't stomach the guilt of knowing it was her fault. Bridget would have never been in a situation like this if it hadn't been for Franky. This whole fucking mess was her fault!

Franky put her head in her hands. The thought of Bridget risking everything to get her out had the opposite effect on Franky. She wasn't grateful. She had been furious. The cold concrete closed around her and her chest caved in with it. Old feelings self loathing rose in her. She didn't deserve anything good. She just didn't. She knew the monster within. Well you're an idiot. She had growled, after Bridget once again said she would never give up on her; that she would never stop loving her.

Too much had happened in the last couple of days. Her head was spinning. She needed to think. It was still a good hour before dinner, so Franky headed for the library. Studying had always grounded her.

The library was empty. Women would be coming back from their work assignments and spending the hour in their units, unwinding before dinner. Franky took one of her favorite law books off the shelf and plopped down in one of the chairs. She propped her feet up and began to read.

The words were blurring together. Bridget's soothing voice punishing her thoughts once again. I know a lot of people have let you down, but I won't be one of them.

God, her stubbornness! Franky didn't know whether to hug her or laugh at her. As it turns out, she did neither, and slipped way too easily into the biting, angry woman she had thought was gone. Her survival instincts were kicking in on overdrive and the last thing she needed was to watch Bridget's back as well. She couldn't protect her if she didn't stay away! Franky miserably thought of what she had once accused Red of: You're the grim fucking reaper.

Was this Franky's fate as well? She had selfishly pursued Bridget when she had nothing to lose, and the psychologist had everything to lose. Now it was Bridget hounding her. ..only again it was Bridget with everything on the line. And now Ferguson was threatening her; fixating on her.

Franky slammed the book in frustration. How could she make Bridget see that she was no good? That everything she touched dies? Franky was determined to be the selfless one in this. If she had any hope of redemption she must put aside her desperate need for Bridget in her life. While she was in teal, she had to let her go. It was the only way to save her, and that's all Franky could think about. When all was said and done, she didn't believe she'd ever get out of prison. The best she could do was to make damn sure the only woman she'd ever truly loved didn't burn with her.


	9. Chapter 9

A familiar voice disrupted her as she slammed down the library book.

"That's government property, Doyle. Surely you don't want. ..more destruction…to add to the list?"

Franky looked up and met the dark eyes of Ferguson. How the fuck long had she been there? Franky's tortured features smoothed out automatically, leaving only a stone mask in its place. She sat back and folded her arms. On most people this was an unconscious defense posture. On Franky it only meant that she was about to bare her teeth.

"You'd know a lot about destruction, wouldn't you? Start any fires, lately?"

Ferguson looked at her blackly. "Ha."

The formidable woman leaned idly against the table Franky was reading at, feigning interest in her. Casually she leaned in. "I'm curious, Doyle, as to why you haven't hired a PI to look into your case?" She winked. "I rather suspect it has something to do with Ms. Westfall?" Then she took a breath as if remembering something. "Has Ms. Westfall ever told you she's been raped?" Her black eyes shot to Franky's. But she found nothing but green stone. Franky tilted her head, expressionless. "I heard you have. Liked it, did you? How is Juice, anyway?"

Ferguson's jaw tensed, and Franky grinned at her. She was more than a match for the monster in front of her. Her instincts warned her not to provoke Ferguson, but her hatred for the other woman overruled her. She leaned forward, her famous crooked smile blasted at Ferguson. "Tell me, freak, what twisted little mind fuck are you playing now, mmm?"

Ferguson suddenly leaned forward, a scare tactic. Franky didn't flinch, but only looked up at her with her sparking green eyes. "Must be boring, being a ghost and all. No one left to toy with."

Ferguson leaned back again. "Oh, I've found someone to toy with." She said, too quietly.

Franky huffed at her. "Oh please. You'll have to do better than that."

Ferguson arched her eyebrow. "Oh no, not you, Doyle. I've my sights on. ..someone else. Someone less. ..inmate…"

Franky mentally caught her breath. That was the second time in two days Ferguson had threatened Bridget. She kept her voice level. "Come on, I thought you were smarter than that? Unless you like the teal? Suits you, by the way."

Franky grinned at her again but internally cursed herself. Was she seriously baiting the freak?

Ferguson smiled down at her. For a moment Franky felt naked under her piercing stare. She shifted in her chair, metaphorically gathering the cracking bits of her façade and drawing them closer. Ferguson again flicked imaginary lint from her sleeve. "Actually I am starting to quite enjoy it. I'm looking forward to others sharing in my experiences here. ..ones who've…broke the law. ..page 433. Give it a look. I think you'll find it…enlightening." She indicated the book in Franky's hands. She gave Franky one last smirk and sauntered out of the library as quietly as she'd come.

Franky blew out a breath. What? What had she said? She was still holding the law book. She flipped to page 433. Her quick mind skimmed the legal print.

"...failure of professionals to report a breach in parole of said offender, and who actively participate in the circumstances regarding said breach can be charged with no less than two years sentencing as well as an immediate and permanent loss of licensure for the interference of the criminal justice court and its hereby judgements on stated offender. Any acts in violation of the leniency of the initial parole regulations… and the parolee and the indicated offending professional will both be remanded…

Franky choked. Oh fuck. Bridget.


	10. Chapter 10

Franky, now back in her cell, shuffled through the files scattered about on her bed, still playing back the scene in the library. How the fuck was she going to get Bridget to stop poking around her case? How was she going to convince her to stay away? How could she make her believe that while Franky was behind bars, Bridget was in terrible danger?

Franky fought the urge to clear all the files off of her bed in one frustrated sweep of her arm. Instead she pushed her fists into her tired eyes. Dammit, Gidge! She was too fucking smart, too fucking determined to be different from everyone else in Franky's life. Everyone who had given up on her and left her. Everyone who had crushed her heart and who had eventually left stone in its place. Bridget would never give up on Franky. Ever. No matter what Franky said to push her away.

Franky pulled her fists from her eyes. No matter what she said. Bridget wouldn't budge. Said, not did. That was it. Nononono! Her heart screamed at her. But it was too late. The idea had formed in her mind independent of her heart. In that one fucking horrible moment Franky knew what she had to do to save her love. She looked at her kite. Her freedom didn't matter anymore. If she did this, there would be no more Bridget, and what was the point of freedom then? Her features hardened. Bridget will always be more important to Franky. She will be safe. This had to be done.

Franky suddenly ripped the kite off of the wall, a guttural wail tearing from her throat. She barely made it to the toilet before she violently threw up.

And then there she was. Franky had barely cleaned herself up and solidified her wretched plan when Bridget showed up in her doorway. She was happy, delighted to have finally gotten Vera to agree to counseling sessions with Franky. Now they could properly talk; properly see each other without the sneaking around. She didn't notice the shredded kite or the faint smell of bile that still lingered in the air. She didn't see the demonstrative battle raging behind Franky's eyes. She put a kind hand on Franky's elbow, anxious to be alone with her again in her office.

Franky's heart skipped a beat, knowing that this was the last time Bridget would touch her like this. She steeled her heart against the terrible act she was about to preform. It had better be damn convincing. It had better be her best. Bridget's life depended upon her ability to believe Franky right now.

Franky forced her resolve against crumbling. She jerked her arm away. "There's nothing to talk about. You can't fix this."

She cursed internally. Her voice was too gentle. Bridget heard her tone and remained soft. "Franky I'm only trying to help you."

This wasn't working. Her body was still ultimately rejecting her decision. She bought time by raising her voice. ..desperately waring with her self.

"Well, why don't you try believing me? " There. Much stronger. "Or maybe that's it. You've never really trusted me. I've just been a bit of rough trade." Her voice was getting stronger, her hated and loathing of herself wrapped up messily and thrown at Bridget. She had to look away for a moment. Bridget's voice remained calm and gentle, her years of training not allowing her to be drawn into a verbal fight. "Franky, you know that's not true. .."

Franky's voice raised just above a whisper. This was taking to long. She was losing her nerve. "Isn't it? Or maybe this is where I belong, behind bars like a fucking bad girl!" Her adrenaline spiked as she watched in slow motion Bridget's hands lovingly move to cup her face. It was now or never. If Bridget put those kind hands that had never hurt her against Franky's skin, she'd lose her resolve completely. Franky buried the last shred of humanity she had left and shoved Bridget away from her. Hard.

"Fuck off!"

Alarm flickered across Bridget's face for an instant. Franky had never physically lashed out at her before.

"Franky. .." She warned. For the first time she noticed the shattered remains of the kite, littered across the cell floor. Franky's hope, literally torn to shreds. Holy fuck what had she walked in on? She tired to keep her voice steady, but there was something behind Franky's eyes she'd never seen before. An emptiness. A darkness. Alarm slowly blossomed into fear.

Franky approached her quickly and Bridget backed into the cement wall. There was no where to go. Franky closed the gap between them and put a finger in Bridget's face.

"Or maybe this is what turns you on? I'm your big fucking prison fantasy?"

Bridget raised a hand between them, her surprise and fear bringing her to anger. "Franky, don't you do this."

Franky saw the fear in her eyes, felt it in waves coming from her body. It wasn't enough. She was still holding on. Fuck, Gidge, let me go!

But she wasn't going to. She never would. Franky died completely on the inside as she pushed Bridget's defensive hand away and shoved up against her. "Well come on then! Let's fuck!" She didn't recognize her own voice.

Bridget tried to push her off. "What are you doing! Franky stop!"

Franky continued wrestle against her, touching roughly parts she'd only ever loved. She heard herself speak again. Her tone taunting. "No, no I can handle it. This is what you want isn't it?"

Their arms continued to do battle against each other. Bridget would never be strong enough to push her away. Franky saw her slipping…into a dark hole of terror. Almost. Almost.

Franky grabbed ahold of Bridget's shirt and tore it open. Bridget gasped as she fought against her. Her voice rose an octave. "Shit, Franky what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to get you off like a fucking crim!" Franky shouted.

Bridget was frantic against her. "Stop, please!"

And there it was. Raw, unabridged panic. She wasn't in a cell, she was back in college, fighting a man far stronger than her. Franky kept fighting against her, without really doing any physical harm. Bridget was beside herself now. She wasn't thinking. Come on, Gidge. Give me a shove. Anything.

Bridget finally got her hands against Franky's chest and shoved. It was weak at most, her absolute panic crippling her. But Franky jumped back as if kicked by a small horse. I love you, Gidge.

Bridget used the wall for support and she clutched her opened shirt closed against her heaving chest. As she caught her breath she whispered between clenched teeth, "fuck! I know what the fuck you are doing."

Franky just stared at her, keeping a safe distance. Bridget looked at her fiercely . She grit her teeth. "You want to push me away?" She leaned forward. "Well you fucking failed." Her voice was breaking. She was barley holding on.

She took a step closer and it took everything in Franky not to mirror a step back. "You want to hurt me? Mmm? Well congratulations, baby." With that she spun sharply and left Franky's cell.

It didn't work. Holy fuck it didn't work. Franky sank to her knees, realizing in that instant that she had never fully felt the breaking of her heart. But as her chest constricted in a terrible stabbing agony and her tears came out in blubbering sobs, she felt like she was dying.

In truth, a part of her had.


	11. Chapter 11

Bridget sagged against the wall outside of H3. With shaking hands she buttoned her blouse and zipped her dark green jacket all the way up to her neck. She'd worn this jacket today because Franky loved it. Even in her clothing selection she though of Franky. A sob escaped her lips and she clamped a hand over her mouth. Adrenaline was still pumping in her veins and the pressure in her ears was so loud. It sounded like a wail. She clutched her jacket around her. No, that wasn't her ears. An irritating thought nagged at the back of her traumatized brain. Against her better judgement she moved one step closer to the common room of H3. Yes, there it was again. Her body moved on its own accord and in seven short steps she was peeking around the corner of Franky's cell.

Franky was in fetal position on the floor, her back to the door. She'd covered her head with the scraps of kite and was barely muffling the wailing sobs ripping from her throat. Her whole body shook with the force of her misery.

Bridget had seen enough. She backed away quietly and made it down the hall before she began to hear the other inmates coming back from dinner. She didn't want to see an ocean of teal coming at her. She ducked into the officer's lounge and shut the door. She was grateful for its empty stillness.

Her hands were still shaking. She sat heavily in one of the chairs and unconsciously tugged the zipper of her jacket higher. It was as high as it would go. Bridget sighed a shuddering breath and the tears came. She didn't sob uncontrollably. Tears just streamed down her face, helping her release the unbearable tension in her body. Fuck, Franky!

Franky had attacked her. Literally attacked her. It wasn't that she hadn't come close before. Her many nightmares of her time in this place often woke her in such a feral state she'd made as if to attack the nearest person. Bridget. Sometimes it took a frighteningly long moment for Franky to recognize her. There were nights when Franky would pounce, terribly strong, and pin Bridget to the bed until Bridget's soft and calming voice could reach her ears.

And then she would cry, horrified that she had almost taken that swing. Self loathing would leak out of her voice in her desperate attempts to apologize, but Bridget had never needed an apology on those nights.

Bridget took another shuddering breath and blew it out. But this…oh my god this…!

This had been intentional. Fully conscious and intentional.

Bridget cursed herself for not immediately seeing the state Franky was in when she entered her cell. The shredded kite. The inferno behind her eyes. No, she had been too giddy at the prospect of getting to see Franky on a regular, permitted basis. No more whispered intensity in the halls of teal and stone. Now they could properly talk through everything, and Bridget had just known that together, with their combined intellect, they could come up with a plan that would set Franky free.

But Franky hadn't wanted to talk. She was shutting down right in front of Bridget's eyes. She couldn't see the potential of the future anymore. What had happened? Something, somethings, or someone had seriously rattled her to her breaking point.

When Bridget went to cup her face she instantly knew her error, but it was too late. Franky shoved her away and Bridget grunted, the breath forced from her body from the power of the blow. She looked into the green eyes she loved so desperately and backed away from what she saw in them.

That's when she noticed the destroyed kite. That's when she saw the unrecognizable darkness in Franky's stare. That's when her alarm shifted into fear. For the first time she was seeing the monster Franky had always claimed was inside her. But even in the library, when she'd destroyed the place, her tantrum was calculated. Bridget had secretly believed that Franky was too smart, too good, to harbor such a beast.

But then there it was. Oh god there it was. And it was terrifying. The words coming from her mouth were vicious, taunting; evil. And then she came at Bridget with a ferocity that turned the last bit of strength in Bridget to jelly.

Franky was crushing her. Grabbing her, taunting her. Bridget gasped when her blouse was torn open. She had begun to panic. Her own voice sounded impossibly far away…years away. And suddenly she wasn't fighting Franky, she was fighting her faceless attacker in college. The same blind terror gripped her as she slipped away from the cell and into the old nightmare. She had put her hands against Franky's chest and feebly pushed. A weak, pitiful and thoroughly useless push.

But Franky had leapt away as if she'd been electrocuted.

Those years ago, the man had laughed as he easily brushed her hands away. Like he was swatting at flies. Bridget had screamed when he had shoved himself inside her. She screamed as he tore her open and mercilessly pounded into her.

She had employed the same push against Franky and the other women had leapt away. That was what had been nagging her brain. The struggle for her had been real, but as strong as Franky was, something was off in her attack.

It was that instant that Bridget knew there really was no monster. This, too, had been a calculated move. Franky, her beloved Franky, had planned this. Bridget knew that she had been rattled to her core and had done the one unforgivable act in a last attempt to push Bridget away. Only she failed. Bridget was suddenly proud of her response. Her brain had acted on its own accord when she had snarled at Franky that she still wasn't going to give up on her. She hadn't meant it at the time, but she would be damned if she let Franky see the extent of the damage she'd just inflicted.

But now, alone and safe and once again in the present, she had put the pieces together, had seen her lover emotionally dying, and realized that her brain had been far quicker than her heart in her response. She had meant every word.

Even so, as Bridget sat alone in the officer's lounge, she'd rather not see the brunette for a while. She was angry that Franky had chose to abuse the darkest secret Bridget had shared with her. That she had chose to use it in an attempt to cause irreversible pain. There was certainly a part of Bridget that wanted Franky to suffer for what she'd done. Wanted her to experience the level of terror, panic and agony Bridget had felt moments before.

Bridget sighed and wiped the last remnants of her tears away. They would get through this. Not today and not tomorrow either, but they would, if Franky could let herself want it. Bridget would see to it that Franky would finally trust that she could de facto not push Bridget away. Not like this. She would give Franky one last chance to trust her. If then Franky still wanted her to disappear, she would honor that. For the depths of her love, she would honor it.


	12. Chapter 12

Boomer knocked on Franky's cell door again. "Franky?"

A book hit the window from the inside of the cell. "I SAID FUCK OFF!"

Boomer jumped back as if slapped. She stamped her foot in frustration. Her face screwed up in a red ball of anger and she was about to respond, but Liz raised her hand. "I told you to leave her alone, Boomer!"

Boomer blew out the breath she was holding. "yeah, well, I did that yesterday, didn't I? And she still hasn't come out!"

Liz shook her head. They had all tried to get Franky to come out of her cell. They had tried calmness, kindness, bribery, and thanks to Boomer, yelling. ..but Franky hadn't budged. She sat with her back to the door, cross-legged on the floor, gazing out the yellow tinted window. No one dared go in, so for the last day and a half they tried every so often to get her to move on her own accord.

Liz put a kind arm around Boomer. "Just let her be, love. She'll come out when she's ready, or hungry enough, hey?"

Boomer allowed herself to be led away from Franky's door. "You reckon we should get Allie?"

"Get Allie for what?" The blond had just entered H3. She cocked her head towards Franky's closed cell door. "So this is where you've all been? Our unit is starting to look like a ghost town. What's with her?"

Boomer pointed to Franky's door. "She won't come out. Been in there for days."

Liz sighed. "Less than that, but somethings happened. She won't move. We're just worried, is all."

Allie peeked through the window at Franky's still form. She sucked in a breath and grabbed the door handle. She recognized that position. Liz made as if to stop her but it was too late. Allie jerked the door open and slammed it behind her.

Quick as a snake Franky lept to her feet, grabbed Allie by the shirt front and slammed her into the door. Allie raised her hands. She wasn't going to fight Franky. "Bea used to sit like that." She said softly. "For hours. Right before she did something. ..huge."

Franky was breathing hard through her nose. She gave Allie a last shove and backed away. She pointed to the door. "Get out."

"No."

Franky snarled at her. "Get the fuck out!"

Allie kept her hands up. "No. Franky, what happened?"

An emotion Allie all too easily recognized flashed across Franky's face. Shame. "Oh Franky. What have you done?" She whispered.

Franky howled and charged her again, and this time Allie caught her in an embrace. Franky was not expecting that, and tried to jerk loose. Allie grunted against her as she lost her balance, tipping them both backwards onto Franky's bed.

Franky was completely feral for a moment, and Allie barely held on to her. There was a sudden sharp pain in her side. Did she just. ..? Franky had punched her. Allie grit her teeth as another sharp blow hit the same spot. Strong fingers dug into her ribs and angry hands ripped at her frame. She closed her eyes tight against the pain and stubbornly held on.

Suddenly she was bodily lifted and Franky rolled them both onto the floor. Allie lost her grip for a moment and Franky twisted free. They both scrambled to their feet, chests heaving, glaring at each other.

"Get…out…" Franky panted.

Allie shook her head, steeling herself for another attack. "We gonna start that again, are we? No."

There was such a wild danger in Franky's eyes that Allie could see how she'd been top dog for so long. Saw why Bea had respected her so much. Why her love had seen this woman as an equal. Right here, right now, she was scary as fuck.

But she held her ground. "I'm not leaving," she said stubbornly. "You want to hit me? Go ahea…"

She didn't get to finish. Franky decked her in the mouth with a wicked right hook Allie didn't see coming. The power of the blow knocked her sideways and she fell on the bed. She looked up at Franky in shock, and touched her lip. Her finger came away bloody.

"Ow! I wasn't serious!"

Franky laughed in spite of herself, the fire already fading from her eyes. What was it with this girl that disarmed her so? She watched as Allie took her bloody finger and smeared it on Franky's pillowcase. The other woman looked at her in shock and indignation.

"The fuck? Gross!"

Allie touched her lip again and hovered it over the pillowcase. Franky narrowed her eyes. "Don't. .." She warned.

Allie stared defiantly at Franky as she firmly smeared her blood over Franky's pillowcase again. Franky laughed incredulously and pounced on her. They wrestled half-heartedly for a moment, their laughter removing the last of the tension in the tiny cell.

Franky straddled her as she jerked her pillow away from Allie. "You are fucking disgusting," she said, but she was smiling. Her first in days. A smile felt wrong on her face. She didn't deserve to smile ever again. She looked at the woman beneath her and her eyes darkened. Allie, too, felt the shift in mood. She looked away for a moment, needing to see anything other than what she saw in that intense sea of green. Franky got off of her and sat next to her on the bed. Allie sat up and they both leaned back against the wall in silence.

After a while, after both their hearts had settled back into their chests, Franky reached down between the bed and the wall and pulled something out. She tossed it in Allie's lap.

"I'm getting out of here." She said calmly.

Allie gasped. It was Bridget's name badge.

"How did you…? Did she…?"

Franky shook her head. "She doesn't know I have it. And if she does. ..well she hasn't come for it."

Allie turned the name badge over in her hands. "Ms. Westfall has been out sick. She left two days ago and hasn't been back. Flu or something."

Franky looked away. Or something.

Allie was still looking at the name badge. "If she knows you have it, she can't come back. They'd find out you took it."

Franky still didn't look up. Was she really sick, or had she figured out what I've done and is giving me a chance? She buried her face in her hands. Or did I fuck her up so badly she just hasn't noticed it's gone and won't come back anyway?

Allie watched Franky's shoulders sag. "She's not sick, is she?" She said softly.

Franky shook her head, unable to look up. The tears were coming again. She'd thought she had nothing left.

"Franky, what did you do?"

Franky suddenly lunged for the toilet and threw up the nothing she had in her stomach. She wretched until sweat beaded on her brow. Allie cursed and lay a comforting hand on her back, reaching for a wash cloth. Franky let her put the cooling cloth on her face. She finally met Allie's eyes. Blue concern clashed against green shame.

"Something unforgivable."


	13. Chapter 13

Bridget sat on the sofa in her living room, a glass of wine in her hand, and her fingers idly tapping the plush armrest. She hadn't been back to Wentworth prison in two weeks. After Vera and herself had lied to the Ombudsman, she had said she hadn't felt well. Vera had studied her for a moment, a question on her brow, but she'd simply nodded and allowed Bridget the afternoon. Bridget had called in sick the next day, and then the next. Then she asked for the rest of the week. When she had called in sick beginning the next week the receptionist had transferred her to the governor's office. There had been genuine concern in Vera's voice.

"Bridget? Are you alright?"

Bridget kept her voice raspy as she faked a small laugh. "God, Vera, I've never had the flu this bad before!"

"Have you been to the clinic? Is there anything I can do?"

Bridget felt a pang of guilt. "No, no. I just need to take it easy. I'm caring for myself, I promise."

"Bridget, this has nothing to do with the meeting with the Ombudsman right?"

Bridget detected the tiniest bit of doubt in the other woman's voice.

"No, of course not! You handled that so well. Vera, thank you."

Vera huffed into the phone. She'd lied to the authorities to save both their careers. It hadn't been handling it well so much as saving their collective arses. "Well take the week, but we will see you in a week, yes? The women need you."

Bridget had assured her that she would return the following week. In truth, she didn't know how she could.

Franky had her swipe card.

Bridget didn't realize it was missing until she'd gotten home that day..that fucking horrible day..after the meeting with the Ombudsman. She'd searched her purse, the car. ..even the house. But, to be honest with herself, she'd known where it was all along.

That was why Franky had attacked her. That was why she had brought Bridget to a place of such panic. So she could rip the swipe card off of her without detection.

What was she planning? God, what was she thinking? Bridget honestly didn't think Franky would be foolish enough to attempt an escape. ..right? Surely she'd know that even if she could prove her innocence. ..there must be repercussions for escaping? Unless. ..unless she knew that the repercussions, IF she could hand the authorities the person who'd actually committed the murder she'd been accused of, would simply be time already spent. She'd actually walk free.

But there were so many things that could go wrong!

Getting herself killed for one. Either by the authorities or whoever had it in for her. Was she really going to try something so rash?

Bridget sighed. Impulsiveness. Stubbornness. Genius. Anger and hope weren't the only qualities Franky Doyle had an abundance of. Fuck, Franky!

After Bridget had put the pieces together she realized she couldn't return to work. She had no badge. Without an explanation, the prison would be torn apart and most likely Franky would be discovered.

So Bridget did what she'd promised to do, with Franky's permission or not. She helped. She'd called in sick over and over, all the while watching the news for signs of a prison break.

She sighed heavily and leaned her head back against the couch. Franky would know that Bridget would miss her badge. She'd know Bridget would figure out who took it. For all her claims of acting to protect her, Franky had sure put her in a bind.

Or maybe it was a test? Does Bridget really want to help her? Will she really sacrifice everything as she claimed?

Bridget rubbed her eyes, exhausted. Her old nightmares had resurfaced again, of course. Only now Franky and the man interchanged faces. The result was always the same, being Bridget would wake a screaming and shaking and sweaty, hot mess. After the first few nights she'd stopped cursing Franky's name. Bridget knew more than the average person how to cope with trauma, being a psychologist. She knew how to use her training on herself. It was harder than using it on someone else for sure, but she could handle this. She could.

Bridget sipped her wine. She stared at the hand fiddling with the armrest. She smoothed the soft fabric, enjoying the gentle sensation.

A lot had happened on this couch since the afternoon she had picked up Franky from prison. The more romantic side of her would love to be able to say that on that afternoon, she'd taken Franky to the bedsit. She'd love to say that they'd had a first date, in all it's awkward glory, and had shared a sweet, shy kiss on her doorstep.

But in truth they barely talked in the car. Bridget had taken her straight to her house. She'd led Franky inside and after locking the front door firmly they had collided right there in the living room. In a flurry of arms and legs and clothing they had fallen back right onto the couch she now sat. Bridget leaned her head back again and closed her eyes. She hummed softly.

Franky had consumed her more passionately than Bridget had ever experienced. God what a woman! There had been a fierceness to that first time, from all the angst of sneaking around, and the flirting; the waiting. Bridget smiled to herself. Franky had since proven she could take her time; take it torturously slow. Her damn cheeky nature loved to tease, and Bridget delighted in her.

But that first time, here on this couch…Bridget sipped more wine, feeling a flush. Yes, this couch had seen quite a bit. Thank god it couldn't talk.

But then Bridget frowned. It rather saddened her to remember such things. Nothing could be as it was before, not now. Not after everything that had happened. ..could it? If she didn't get herself killed, would Franky even want her back? Could she want Franky?

Bridget finished her wine in one large gulp and stood, a bit off balance, and headed for the bedroom. Their bedroom. She hadn't brought Franky to the bedsit on that afternoon so many months ago. She'd brought her home. Could she want Franky again? Of course she could.

Of course she could.


	14. Chapter 14

There was a pounding on Bridget's front door. It scared the shit out of her and as she gathered her senses and tried to shake the sleepy wine induced fog from her brain, she looked at the clock. 2 am. Had she dreamed it? No, there it was again. Bridget got up and wrapped her robe around her as she cautiously went to the front door.

"Bridget!"

It was Vera. She sounded. ..REALLY angry. Bridget opened the door and stepped back in surprise when Vera pushed her way in. The little woman was still smartly dressed in the governor's uniform. She scanned the living room before turning quite severely towards Bridget.

"Is she here?"

Bridget was barely awake. "What?"

Vera folded her arms. Bridget had never seen her so angry. She spoke between clenched teeth. "Doyle. Is. She. Here."

Bridget shook her head. "Franky? Of course not! Vera…"

But Vera had turned on her heel and walked into the kitchen. Then she walked down the hall towards the bedroom. Bridget felt her heart pounding. Holy fuck, she did it. She pulled off a fucking escape!

Bridget knew her next move better be damn careful. Vera would know from the logs that it was Bridget's swipe card that had been used. She watched from the doorway as Vera looked under the bed.

"Vera…" She started again, keeping her voice calm.

Vera stood and turned to her. "May I see your swipe card, please?"

"We both know that I don't have it." Bridget said softly.

Vera laughed incredulously at her and pushed past her towards the spare room. After looking under that bed as well she turned on Bridget once again. "Tell me…tell me you did not give your swipe card to Doyle." This was more than anger. There was hurt and the inflection of the betrayed in her voice. Bridget shook her head.

"Of course I didn't. Vera…"

"Then where is it?" The governor snapped.

Bridget sighed. "I noticed it was gone when I came home last week. I thought I'd just misplaced it in the house. Vera, what's happened? Where's Franky?" Good. Just the right amount of innocent confusion.

For the first time Vera looked in her eyes. Some of the hurt was smoothing out, but a deep mistrust remained. "Doyle has been missing for two days."

Bridget put her hands to her mouth, genuinely horrified. "Two days! Christ, Vera!"

Her reaction seemed to be just what Vera needed to relax somewhat. The accusation left her eyes completely. Apology replaced it. "I'm sorry, I was going to tell you, but then the logs…"

Bridget folded her arms. "She stole my badge, then. That would only let her have free reign of the halls. Vera, how did she get out of the prison?"

Vera lost the last shred of anger and pushed her palms into her eyes. She looked horribly haggard. "I don't know! All I know is that she's not IN the prison. I'm trying to keep this under wraps but it's going to get out." She sat heavily on the couch.

Bridget's mind raced. Franky had the card for two weeks, but had only been missing two days. Nineteen days of planning. Bridget had seen what the brunette could do with no planning. With that much time, the only way Franky could be found now was if she wanted to be. She sat just as heavily next to Vera.

"You find her, Vera, before. .." She couldn't finish. Vera nodded.

"You may be up for investigation if word gets out."

Bridget shook her head. She didn't care about that. "Just find her."

Vera stood. "I'm sorry. For this. ..it just. ..I just had to know. .." She stumbled miserably over her words. Bridget touched her arm gently.

"She wouldn't come here, Vera. She's smarter than that."

Vera walked with her to the front door. On her way out she looked one last time at Bridget. "How DID she get your swipe card?"

Bridget met her eyes. "I don't know." She said evenly. She wasn't sure if Vera believed her or not. The little woman just looked so frayed. Bridget held out her hands helplessly. "Tell me what I can do?"

Vera walked down the steps of the front porch. "Just tell me if she shows up. For her sake, Bridget. And it's best if you don't come back to the prison until she's found."

Bridget nodded. "Of course. Can you keep this a secret?"

Vera shook her head as she walked back to her car. "Not for much longer."

Bridget watched her drive away before she closed the door. She leaned her forehead against it. Could this get any worse? She'd never believed Franky could or would do such a thing. Yes, she stole the badge, but so had Bea. Only. ..Bea had used it to build makeshift armor. Franky had used it to escape the prison. Bridget felt tears in her eyes. She felt years older than she was.

She let only a few tears fall before wiping them away. As of right this moment, at 2:30 am, she could do nothing but try and go back to sleep. She flipped off the living room light, plunging the house into darkness. She slowly felt her way to the bedroom and went to hang up her robe in the bathroom. When she reached her bed she flipped on the little lamp on her bed side table. She wasn't going to sleep. Not now. She sighed. Just how many sleepless nights could one woman cause another?

"Hey, Gidge."

As quiet as the voice was behind her, Bridget's heart leapt out of her chest and she barely bit back a scream as she whipped around.

Franky was leaning against the wall. Bridget's heart automatically ached at the state she was in, but her eyes narrowed and she hugged her arms tightly across her rather revealing night dress. "Are you here to hurt me?" She asked. It was cruel, but fair, and Franky knew it.

The brunette looked away a moment. Shame. She shook her head. "No." She whispered.

Bridget's mind was racing. Her head was spinning. She couldn't think. "Well, what are you doing here?" She blurted.

Franky shrugged sadly. "I guess I'm not as smart as you think I am, hey?"

Then she swayed once and collapsed onto the floor in a dead feint. Bridget's hands flew to her mouth. The lower half of Franky's prison issue tank was covered in blood.


	15. Chapter 15

*5 hours earlier

Franky crept up to Mike's house via the back wall. There was one small window at eye level, tucked in weirdly against the rest of the solid stucco walls. What a shit hole.

She jerked at the window half-heartedly, sure it would be locked. To her surprise it opened just enough. After a quick look around, Franky heaved herself up and through the window. It was a tight squeeze. She grit her teeth as she forced her body through. Maybe she'd look for another way out..

Once inside, Franky cocked her head, listening. The house showed signs of neglect and abandonment. There was nobody here. Carefully avoiding the moonlight streaming though the windows, she moved around the house. She didn't know what she was looking for. She'd only instinctively come here, as starting at the beginning seemed the most rational idea in her whole irrational plan.

She crept on noiseless feet and looked around. What stood out immediately was the one blank wall in the living room. All the other walls were covered in art or had shelves or furniture relieving the space.

But this wall was stark naked. As Franky moved closer and squinted her eyes against the darkness she could see dozens of tiny black dots peppering the drywall surface. The fuck?

She reached out and touched one of the black dots. It was actually a tiny hole. Franky's eyes widened as she ran her hand over the dozens of holes. Push pins. This wall hadn't always been blank. At one time, in the very recent past, it had been covered with photos…crammed together with push pins in a sort of hellish collage. Photos of what? Of who…her?

"Sick fuck," Franky whispered to herself as she scanned the room again. With more focus she felt her way around the house, opening drawers and feeling inside. She searched each room carefully, quietly, all the while mentally grateful for the triple layer of latex gloves she wore courtesy of an unknowing prison nurse.

She found no photographs. She blew out a breath impatiently. She needed to find something…anything! She stood in the master bedroom and eyed the closet. Purposefully she strode forward and opened the double doors. She fumbled in the dark as she pushed aside clothing to feel deeper inside. Her hands hit the back wall.

Franky paused. There was a distinct hollow sound behind that wall. She knocked carefully again, listening. Her fingers felt in the dark until she found what she'd been looking for. A seam in the drywall. Someone had done a pretty shitty job hiding the hole that had been in the back of this closet. Franky pushed experimentally, and then forcefully shoved both her fists into the patched wall. She tore at the hole she'd created and reached inside.

She cried out in shock and jerked her arm back as her fingers touched a body. Jesus fucking Christ! She couldn't see anything and with her heart pounding in her throat she tentatively reached back into the hole.

It was a body, but even in her heightened state of shock she realized that there was no smell. No flies. She firmly gripped the body and tugged it out of the hole and out of the closet. It was too light; too easily moved. She dragged it by the window and dropped it into the moonlight for a closer look. The back of her hand flew to her mouth in horror.

It was a life sized doll…of her. Mike had a life sized doll of her stashed in a hole in his closet and oh my god her fucking face had been burned away!

Franky backed away from the monstrosity at her feet, her adrenaline spiking as she recalled Mike attacking her in her car. She could still feel the heat of the blow torch against her skin. It had been too fucking close.

Suddenly Franky was grabbed from behind. She grunted in shock as thick arms encircled her and a knife scraped her throat. If she hadn't just been reliving the last violent encounter she'd had, she may have frozen. As it was, the person that grabbed her unwittingly grabbed a coiled viper.

With a guttural yell, Franky caught the arm holding the knife to her throat and jerked it down, simultaneously jamming her elbow into her attackers stomach. Her assailant gave a very male "oof" as his grip on her loosened. Franky twisted in his grip and even as she felt the knife press into her lower back, she put her hands against her attacker's chest and shoved mightily.

The knife blade scraped deeply across her lower back and side as the man fell over backwards. Franky felt her muscle and tissue being flayed away. She grimaced at the sudden onslaught of stinging pain and grabbed her side, falling to one knee. The cut was deep. In moments it felt as if she were literally holding herself together.

The man was getting to his feet, and Franky struggled to hers. He charged her and there was nothing she could do but let him slam into her. All the breath was forced from her lungs as the man roughly pinned her to the floor. She felt another burning sting across her shoulder and collarbone as the man dragged the knife to her throat. Franky kept struggling against him, but she knew it was over. One meaty hand wrapped around her throat and she saw the wicked shadow of his arm raise; saw the glint of the knife in the moonlight. This was it. Oh Gidge, I'm sorry…

A car dove by. Its headlights streamed through the curtain-less windows and for an instant illuminated everything. The man straddling her, clear as day. The knife poised above her. His face, collapsing from ragged aggression to utter confusion as he stared down at her. The headlights had illuminated her features as well.

The hand on her throat loosened. "Francesca?"

Franky froze beneath him. She didn't recognize him, and her frightened mind tried furiously to collect the details of his face.

As the car passed, the house was plunged into darkness once again. The man got off of Franky quickly, cursing under his breath. He grabbed the doll and fairly ran from the house, leaving Franky shivering with shock and pain, in a growing pool of her own blood.


	16. Chapter 16

Bridget stared down in horror at Franky's still form. She backed away slowly until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed. She sat. And stared. And thought.

She should call Vera immediately. Why wasn't she running for the phone? Franky obviously needed medical attention. She should call Vera right now so they could smuggle Franky back into prison and then keep working LEGALLY to set her free. That's what she should do. Right now.

But Bridget's body wasn't responding to her brain's command. Get up, get the phone, and call the governor!

"No." She said aloud. Her voice bounced off the walls in the stillness of the early morning.

Call Vera!

Bridget shook her head to clear it. No, she wasn't going to call Vera. Not now, maybe not ever again.

Hope you look good in teal. You are harboring a fugitive.

Bridget tapped her fingers against her lips. Well, if she wasn't in deep shit before, she certainty was now. If she made one move towards the unconscious woman on her floor she was culpable. She would be, for the first time in her life, committing a felony.

I chose you, Gidge. I'm sorry. ..but I'll always choose you.

Franky's voice echoed in her ears. Was that really only a month ago? So much had happened since then. So much pain, anger, betrayal. ..but even still. ..after all that had happened, Franky was here. Where ever she had come from since she'd left the prison, it looked at though she'd dragged herself a good bit of the way. She'd brought herself to Bridget absolutely helpless, filthy, wounded…against the backdrop of rejection and the real possibility of more time in prison. She'd collapsed onto the rug, knowing that she was completely and utterly at Bridget's mercy.

Bridget stood resolutely. "And I chose you, my love." She whispered. She walked purposefully to their closet and began rummaging around. She emerged with a thick blanket they'd never needed. She tossed it onto the floor next to Franky. Then she went into the bathroom and knelt down, opening the vanity cupboard. She pulled out a heavy black bag that Franky had never noticed and smiled grimly to herself. She brought it to the bed and opened it.

Before she was a psychologist, Bridget had been training to be a nurse. She realized, after the vicious attack her junior year, that she didn't want to spend her life treating victims of atrocious violence. She wanted to catch the fuckers who were atrociously violent. She wanted to get into their own minds and use their twisted psychology against them. To her credit, a fairly large portion of the inmates at the Walford prison were locked away for life because of her expert evaluation.

After years as a criminal psychologist, the rage for justice slowly died down. She began to visit Wentworth, in the hopes of making a real difference in the lives of the broken woman there, parallel to her own healing. A full time job was offered to her almost immediately, her resume and reputation preceding her. The rest, as the saying goes, is history.

Bridget dug through the black bag and began pulling out all the medical tools and supplies she'd collected over the years. It may have been twenty years since she had done her clinicals, but as she noticed her steady hands and calm heart, she realized that she'd not forgotten a thing. The last item she pulled from her bag was in a tiny plastic box. She opened the box and lifted the little crooked suturing needle. She had a feeling she'd need it.

She turned and looked at Franky again. God she was a mess! She ripped her bedside lamp from the wall, removed the shade, and plugged it in close to Franky. She picked up the wool blanket and laid it out. She hesitated for a moment, and then rolled Franky onto it, face down, grimacing at the amount of blood on her shirt. She needed to see that wound.

She gently lifted Franky's tank and sucked in a breath. Jesus fuck! What the fuck, Franky?

She knew it wasn't a gunshot. She'd seen plenty of those during her clinicals in the city. No, this was a knife wound. A deep, long and rather clean knife wound. Whatever the weapon used, it had been really fucking sharp. As her delicate fingers probed the wound, she saw no signs of serrated edges. It had been a straight edge, like a kitchen knife. A chef's knife…

Franky, she groaned internally during her inspection, what has happened to you?

The knife wound started at the base of her spine and wrapped around her right side, just above her hip bone. She ran back into the bathroom and scrubbed her hands with warm soapy water for exactly one minute. Then she donned surgical gloves and headed back to Franky's side. Bridget thanked heaven for small mercies as she dug her fingers into the opening. Nothing major had been nicked. Fifty tiny stitches should do it.

Bridget removed Franky's tank altogether, taking note the shallow cut across her collarbone. That one could wait. She used straight alcohol on the deep wound and watched as blood and plasma poured out. She used several bottles, not wanting to take any chances. Then she threaded the crooked little needle, took a deep breath, and began to sew.


	17. Chapter 17

Bridget bit her lip, thinking on how intimate she wanted to be with Franky. She needed to be clean, or risk infection. She was covered in blood, alcohol, dirt and whatever other grimy thing she'd crawled through to get to Bridget. There wasn't an inch of her that wasn't filthy. Bridget desperately wanted to tip her into the bath and just let her soak. Maybe wash her up a bit. But she couldn't now that Franky sported a thin, gruesomely long frown of stitches. Bridget had to look that up, to be sure. Yes, keep dry for at least a week. Sponge bath it was, but she sure as hell wasn't going to get caught bathing Franky when she woke up.

It was 7am. Bridget had just finished all the medical administrations Franky had needed. But that was the first step. Now she needed to wake up and get clean, get fluids back into her body, replenish the hideous loss of blood.

Bridget stifled a yawn and stretched her aching back. She had crouched over Franky for five hours, being damn meticulous in her administrations. She was pleased with her work. Not bad for being twenty years rusty.

Bridget sighed and wiped an errant strand of hair from Franky's face.

"Franky." She called softly. "Franky wake up."

Nothing. The steady rise and fall of her chest was her only movement. Bridget reached out and gently squeezed her uninjured shoulder.

"Franky." She spoke a bit louder. "Franky."

Franky's eyelids fluttered and she slowly turned her head towards the sound of Bridget's voice. Her lips moved sluggishly. "Am I dead?"

Bridget sighed, both in exasperation and relief. "You ought to be, you damn fool."

Franky smiled slowly and at last opened her eyes. "Hey, Gidge."

Bridget fought the sudden urge to flood Franky with questions and reprimands. She actually choked somewhat, it was that difficult to keep herself at bay. But there were more urgent things to be done first. So instead, she put pressure on Franky's shoulder. The brunette had closed her eyes again.

"Franky, you need to stay awake, now."

"Why didn't you shoot me to the cops?" Franky whispered.

"Because I love you." Bridget said simply.

Franky opened her eyes and focused on her for the first time. Bridget couldn't tell if it was physical or emotional pain she saw in them.

"I don't deserve it."

Bridget huffed. "No, you don't. ..sometimes." She said. "I need you to get cleaned up, Franky. And you need to eat or drink something."

Franky moved to sit up but gasped, grabbing her side. She grimaced as she both saw and touched the bandage on her side. "What…?"

Bridget put a hand on her arm. "Don't mess with it. I…stitched you up."

Franky looked at her in stark admiration. "No shit? Lucky me! "

Bridget pursed her lips and put a steadying arm under Franky's shoulders. "Come on. And go slowly."

Franky allowed herself to be helped into sitting position, scrunching her face in pain. It took some effort, but with Bridget's help she was able to stand. She immediately swayed and Bridget held onto her. "Small steps. Into the bathroom." She murmured. Franky leaned on her heavily and together they carefully made their way into the bathroom. Bridget sat Franky down on the edge of the tub and stepped back.

"Sponge bath. Don't get that bandage wet."

Franky looked up at her, the tiniest bit of cheekiness in her voice. "Help me?"

Bridget narrowed her eyes severely. "Oh, now you ask for help? No. I need to clean the mess you made on the bedroom floor. And I'll make you some soup." With that she turned and walked out of the bathroom, rather pleased with the disappointed look on Franky's face.

She smiled to herself as she heard the water running, and smiled for real at the quiet string of curses coming from the bathroom. It wasn't that she wanted Franky to be in pain. It was just confusing to have her here…alarming, actually. In fact, Bridget was certain that her heart hadn't stopped pounding since she finished the last stitch. Once Franky was out of the danger of bleeding to death, Bridget's hands shook and her heart thudded irregularly in her chest. A large part of her was still so angry at Franky for attacking her, for using her worst nightmare as part of a plan to escape. She was angry that she'd got herself stabbed. She was angry that she'd come to Bridget for help…now. ..when it meant that Bridget would become a felon if she obliged.

But then there was the other part of her, the part that her heart wouldn't allow her to show Franky just yet, (besides the simple I love you) that was over the moon that she was home. The attack, the escape, all the lies and hurt and mistrust. ..none of that mattered because her Franky was home. Granted, she was here COMPLETELY illegally, but this particular part of Bridget didn't care. Franky was home.

Bridget sighed and allowed her heart and mind to war with each other as she methodically cleaned up and made disappear all the evidence that anything out of the ordinary had ever happened on their bedroom floor. When she stepped back and was fully satisfied, she went into the kitchen and grabbed a dusty can of chicken soup from the pantry. She smiled again. Franky hadn't let her indulge in canned goods since she'd moved in that first afternoon after her release. If she'd wanted chicken soup, Franky would make it from scratch. Bridget wiped off the dust from the top of the can and looked forward to the offended expression she'd receive upon its delivery.

The soup was almost ready when there was a knock on her door. "Bridget?"

It was Vera.


	18. Chapter 18

Bridget's heart actually stopped. She caught her breath and could literally feel the handcuffs against her wrists. She could see the look in Vera's eyes. She could feel the irreversible domino effect her actions had caused.

And Franky. There was no warning her. There was no stalling for time in fear of raising suspicion. No, she had to just go to the door and let the governor in, and have her subsequent crimes discovered. They were caught.

She felt tears in her eyes as she opened the door. "Vera!"

Vera let herself in and roamed into the kitchen. "Still not feeling well?" She asked kindly, indicating to the soup. Bridget desperately tried to gather her senses and push the steady stream of fuckfuckfuckfuck out of her head. She nodded and forced a smile.

"Vera, did you find her? Did you find Franky?"

That question was really going to make her feel stupid when Vera found Franky in her bathroom. She'd have years in teal to regret it.

But Vera's countenance fell. "No, we haven't. That's why I've come. The women. ..the women aren't the only ones who need you around."

She looked shyly at Bridget, and the other woman almost puked guilt all over that uniform. Instead, Bridget artfully maintained her composer and offered Vera a gentle side hug. "I'm sorry, Vera. I'm only been thinking of myself. This must be awful for you!"

Vera nodded and sniffed a bit. "It really is. So far we've kept a lid on it, but we need to find her. Bridget we need to find her!"

Bridget was a terrible liar. She had no poker face whatsoever. To her utter horror she burst into tears. "Vera, I'm so sorry!" She cried suddenly.

Vera was startled and moved to comfort her, confusion written all over her face. "What? Bridget, what? None of this is your fault!"

There was her rescue, right there, offered to her on a silver platter, but the all the stress of the sleepless night and the guilt of lying just poured out of her eyes. She tried to reign it in. "I know…it's just. .."

Vera suddenly pulled away, holding Bridget at arms length. Her sharp eyes narrowed. Suddenly she let go of Bridget and walked quickly and purposefully towards the bedroom. Bridget was frozen in the kitchen, and literally watched as her life changed forever.

She waited on bated breath for the accusing acclimation. For the sound of the struggle Franky was likely to put up. For that look of betrayed triumph on Vera's face.

To her complete shock, Vera returned only seconds later. The only expression she wore was abject apology. Sheepishly she shrugged.

"Sorry. I…"

Bridget's relief and confusion came out as hurt. "You still don't believe me? That I'm not harboring a felon?"

"That you're not harboring your. ..partner," Vera offered sincerely. "I'm sorry but I can't believe she wouldn't come to you first."

Bridget blew out a breath. She wiped her eyes and shook her head. "I feel awful that this had been so hard on you, Vera, but please don't confuse my empathy with guilt." Her voice scared her. She didn't know who she was becoming, but had zero time to process it. Vera looked absolutely miserable.

"Bridget please. ..forgive me. This had been an unparalleled ordeal for both of us."

Bridget went to the stove and removed the soup pan from the burner. She tried to make her voice more gentle, but after the near confession and her own blatent stupidity all she could manage was keeping her voice even. "If it helps you trust me, I know now how Franky got my swipe card."

Vera raised her eyebrows. "How?"

Bridget turned to look at her. True, she had a terrible time with lies, but she could damn well tell the truth.

"She attacked me in her cell."

Vera started, quite understandably. "She what?"

"She attacked me. Viciously under the pretense of assault. She'd known I'd been through. ..something similar in my past. She exploited it. I was too distraught to realize what she'd done. What she'd set out to do."

Vera was horrified. "Oh, Bridget! Why didn't you tell me?"

Bridget shugged. "I was going to, but the illness I felt afterwards was more than emotional pain." She indicated to the pan of soup. "I actually became sick. I didn't even realize it was missing until you showed up. ..this morning."

Vera was looking more and more uncomfortable. "Jesus, Bridget. This is the last time you will see me unless I call first! I'm…I'm so sorry!"

She walked to the door. "I'll call first next time. I promise." She offered Bridget a small smile, which Bridget returned, and then left. Bridget, for the second time in less than six hours waited until the governor drove away before closing the door and pressing her forehead to it.

Oh my god, Franky!

Bridget raced into the bedroom. No Franky. Her blood turned to ice. She ran into the bathroom. There was not one bit of evidence that anyone had been in there since last night. Flabbergasted, Bridget called her name softly.

The equally quiet reply scared her as much as it did last night. She half expected Franky to be gone, or a dream.

"Under the bed."

Bridget's eyebrows shot up. Surely not! They couldn't even fit a shoe box under that damn old bed! She rushed to the bed and knelt down to look.

Large green eyes stared back at her. Franky was completely naked and had literally crammed herself into a space Bridget didn't think humanly possible. Franky's eyes were alight with fear and pain.

"I think I ripped open my stitches."

Bridget couldn't help but laugh, it was a bit high pitched and panicy, but there was raw relief behind it.

"Can you get out?"

Franky answered by trying. Bridget watched, oh she watched, as Franky maneuvered her body, bit by gleaming and delightfully nude bit, out from under the bed. When she had at last scraped her rear end from the confines of that space she turned onto her back, not caring that her legs were still under the bed. Not caring that she lay completely exposed under Bridget's stare. She was exhausted. Bridget just stared down at her, amazed.

"How. ..how did you get under there? How did you know?"

Franky looked up at her. "I heard Vera's voice, and you're a shit liar."

She smiled at Bridget. A real honest to god grin that blasted Bridget's conscious back.

Bridget couldn't stand it anymore. She didn't give a damn if it was out of stress, guilt, confusion, relief or straight up lust for the naked woman on the floor in front of her. She could delight in it or regret it later. She bent down and caught Franky's lips with her own in a heated kiss. Franky responded instantly. She reached up and gripped the back of Bridget's neck, pulling her down farther. She moaned softly into the kiss but furrowed her brow. She pulled back.

"Gidge.."

Bridget leaned over her and pressed her lips severely into Franky's again. "Shut up," she murmured, before burying her hands into the brunette's wet, tangled hair and pulling her closer.


	19. Chapter 19

Franky groaned as Bridget kissed her. She did not deserve this woman. Not after the things she'd said; the things she'd done. She furrowed her brow as Bridget moved her fingers through her hair, gripping the tangled wet strands almost painfully. She was fully aware of her nakedness now, where as before there was only fear induced adrenaline.

It wasn't that she wasn't comfortable being nude around Bridget, it was that she didn't want the woman kissing her so desperately to be doing so out of a sleepless, stressful overload of emotions. The last few hours had been impossibility packed with…pick a feeling! Surely this couldn't be what Bridget wanted?

"Gidge…"

The other woman gripped her tighter. "Shut up," came the husky reply. Franky reached up and brushed Bridget's hair from her face, feeling Bridget force open her mouth to push her tongue in. Bridget loved to kiss and be kissed, but they had never mastered the art of simply making out. Inevitably one or both would need more. The attraction, love, passion, desire. ..it was too strong in both of them for each other.

The slow burn of arousal settled deep in Franky's abdomen. She had never been with such an irresistible woman! Bridget was all soft curves against the firmness of Franky's toned body. She fit; everywhere. Perfectly. She was the constant and only cause of Franky's arousal. She was the blinding beacon piercing through Franky's darkness. She was a tiny space heater when Franky was cold. She was Franky's little spoon. She was wise, kind and generous. To her core, she was good.

But more than anything, the blond woman melting down into her frame loved Franky like she'd never been loved before. How rare and beautiful that she existed!

Franky suddenly reached up and threw her arms around Bridget's neck, breaking the kiss and pulling the surprised woman down on top of her. She grimaced with pain but buried her face in Bridget's neck and held on. She started to cry.

"Why couldn't you stay away?" She sobbed. "I've hurt you so badly, and now look where we are; what I've done!" She held Bridget tighter, terribly afraid that she'd come to her senses and move away from the monster beneath her.

But Bridget didn't move away. She allowed herself to be crushed for a moment before gently pulling away so Franky could look into her face if she wanted to. She didn't. Franky shut her eyes and turned her head away, arms still holding on for dear life.

Bridget sighed and leaned down to kiss one of Franky's tears. "Because I see you." She whispered calmly. She brushed her cheek against Franky's. "Because I know you." She lifted a hand and cupped Franky's chin, making the other woman meet her eyes. "Because I love you."

Franky smiled sadly through her tears. "Well you're an idiot."

Bridget's kind blue eyes crinkled around the edges as she leaned down and pressed her forehead against Franky's. "Well, you've met your match then, my love."

Franky huffed at her, but then screwed up her face in pain.

"Gidget…" She grit her teeth.

Bridget pulled away a fraction. "Mmm?"

Franky tried, through the persistent sting, to offer her an apologetic smile. "I'm bleeding on the rug."

Bridget jumped up. "Oh shit, Franky!" She helped the brunette completely out from under the bed. Before she'd let her stand, Bridget peeked under her bandage. She blew out a breath.

"Just stretched. It's ok. Just. ..damn you are still bleeding. Stay here." Bridget got up and went into the bathroom for her bag. She pulled out gauze and tape. Returning to Franky, she carefully removed the first bandage and re-wrapped it as tightly as she dared. Franky didn't make a sound but Bridget knew the level of pain she was in. Food, pills, rest. In that order. Everything else could wait.

"Let's get you dressed and into bed. I'll bring you the soup."

Franky didn't argue, but as Bridget wrapped her arm around her shoulders and hoisted her up, Franky whispered in her ear, "thank you."

Bridget didn't answer. She simply let her actions do what her words never seemed able to. She led Franky to the bed and then moved to their closet, taking out Franky's favorite pair of tracky dacs and helping her into them. Then she left to fetch the soup.

She grinned when Franky awarded her a suspicious stare when she came back with the bowl of soup. Her smile widened as the silly woman shook her head in horror.

"No way. Not eating that. Gidge, I thought I threw all of those damn cans away!"

Bridget sat at the edge of the bed and forcefully handed the bowl to Franky. "I've hid some. Now take it!" She grinned again. "It's so processed and delicious. .."

Franky groaned even as her stomach growled. It'd been a while since she'd eaten. She shook her head, still mortified, but pressed the bowl to her lips and drank. Once she swallowed several times she groaned. "Where are the fresh, crunchy veggies? Everything in here is so fucking floppy!"

Bridget laughed as Franky couldn't help but finish the rest. She HAD been hungry. She passed the empty bowl to Bridget who couldn't keep the teasing smile off her face. "I'm proud of you, baby."

Franky huffed and snuggled down into the bed. Bridget got up and handed her some pills. Without question, Franky took them.

Bridget looked at the clock. Christ it was only 9am! She got up off the bed and Franky grabbed her hand in sudden panic. "Stay! "

Bridget sighed and crawled into bed next to her, on top of the covers. Franky opened her mouth but Bridget shushed her. "When you wake up, we have a lot to talk about."

"I need to tell you everything."

Bridget agreed. "When you wake up."

Franky searched her face a moment before she nodded and closed her eyes. She was utterly spent. She was asleep almost immediately. When she began to snore slightly, Bridget frowned to herself and rose from the bed carefully. She closed the bedroom door behind her and tiptoed down the hall and into the living room.

She picked up her phone and called Vera.


	20. Chapter 20

As the phone rang, Bridget walked out onto the porch and quietly shut the front door behind her. She didn't want to wake Franky with what she was about to do.

"Bridget!" Vera was very surprised. "Has something happened? Did Franky…?"

Bridget raised her voice slightly. "What? Vera? Did you find Franky?"

Vera sounded confused. "What? No…wait. ..Bridget, I was just startled to hear from you. Are you ok?"

Bridget blew out a breath into the phone. "God, I'm sorry, Vera. I didn't get much sleep last night. .."

Vera cleared her throat. "Yes, well again I apologize."

Bridget gripped the phone tightly. "Vera, have you spoke to Ferguson?"

That caught the governor by surprise. "Well I certainly try not to. ..why do you ask?"

"Because what if Franky's dead?"

Perfect octave. Bridget already felt her heart pounding at the thought. Vera choked into the phone.

"Bridget!"

"No! Listen! This wouldn't be the first time! Allie, Bea, Summo, Jess? Vera, what If she killed Franky?"

Vera kept her voice calm. The other woman was clearly exhausted and not thinking clearly. "Bridget," she said slowly, "Some of that is speculation, And we've searched the prison. Franky isn't here."

Bridget raised her voice. "But what if Ferguson attacked her? Oh god, Vera, what if she's hurt and can't move? What if Ferguson dragged her somewhere and she can't…what if…" Bridget stopped. Her voice broke and she stated to cry. "What if she needs help?"

Vera spoke calmingly against the clear unraveling on the other end of the phone. "Ferguson didn't touch her." She said firmly. "Franky…escaped. She was getting frustrated and desperate. Think of how smart she is. Bridget, we'll find her, I promise. We've thoroughly searched the prison. She's not here."

Bridget's voice was now angry. "Well it's a big place! If you haven't found her than you don't know! You don't know if she's there, trapped, hurt. ..or dead!"

Vera sighed. She hadn't gotten any sleep either. ..for the past two days. "Ok, Bridget. Ok. I'll order another search. If she's here, we will find her."

Bridget slumped against the house. "You'll call me immediately?"

Vera smiled into the phone. She was certain that Franky wasn't behind these walls, and now she was damn certain she wasn't hiding out with Bridget. "Of course I will. Bridget, please don't worry. Neither of us have quite come across someone like Franky Doyle, yeah? She's fine. A fugitive…but perfectly fine."

Bridget sniffed into the phone. "I'm worried sick, Vera."

"I know. Get some rest, please, Bridget. I'll call you in a few hours after the search. The very thorough search."

Bridget burst unto tears again. "Thank you, Vera!"

Vera sounded compassionate, and a little alarmed. "Get some rest," she said again, and hung up the phone.

Bridget dropped her arms to her sides and blew out a breath. She wiped her eyes nonchalantly and walked back inside, humming quietly to herself. She tossed the phone onto the coffee table and collapsed onto the couch. A slow and satisfied smiled spreading across her face as she closed her eyes. Yes, she may be a shit liar. ..but she was a hell of an actress.

Franky woke with a start, completely disoriented. It was pitch dark outside. As she jumped, she grabbed her side and uttered a soft curse. She sat up slowly and rubbed her face, remembering the too much that had happened in the last two…three now…days. Bridget was nowhere in sight, and for a fleeting moment Franky was afraid. She had gone against every instinct she had, crawling to Bridget. Not only was she sure to shoot Franky to the cops as she deserved, she just might let her bleed to death. Also, the larger portion of her brain reminded her, all her hideous actions had been to keep Bridget out of it. What immersed her deeper into Franky's shit than escaping prison and then passing out on her bedroom floor?

Franky groaned, partially from pain, mostly from regret. Why had she come here? Some great protector she was. Now Bridget was a criminal, and if they were caught. ..

Franky got up, used the bathroom, and poured herself a large glass of water. She looked at her haggard reflection in the mirror. Her skin color was off. Her eyes looked too big; too wild. Her hair was a nest of dark brown. What a fucking mess. This is what Bridget had become a felon for. Franky shook her head, not able to look at the image before her anymore.

Instead, she washed her face, her hands, and all the other bits she needed to with warm soapy water. Vera had interrupted this yesterday, or this morning, and Franky barely had time to shove herself under the bed before the little governor had stomped into the room. What a fright she'd get if she had looked under the bed! And... an eyeful. But Vera had only scanned the room and left almost immediately.

Too close. Franky thought as she cleaned herself carefully. Way too fucking close. She couldn't stay here. Every second she remained, Bridget was walking closer and closer towards teal.

What she had to do, is find out who the fuck had attacked her in Mike's house. His face, lit by the headlights, was burned into her memory. He had said her name! Her full name at that. He didn't know her as Franky. He'd known her from afar. But who was he? Why would Mike tell him about her? And why hadn't he killed her?

It was that last question that bothered her the most. Mike had obviously told him things about her. Mike had wanted her dead…or at least seriously wounded. But that night her attacker had a clear shot to stab her through the heart, but when he'd seen her face he had looked. ..horrified. If it had been anyone else he may have taken that blow. But he'd recognized her, and hadn't wanted to kill her.

Franky finished her sponge bath, grateful to be clean again. She'd avoided the stitched area carefully, but every other part of her tingled with the force at which she scrubbed. Her body at last felt like her own again, and not just a carrier for every bit of grime in the outback. She picked up Bridget's hairbrush and began to work through her tangled knots of hair.

She played the events in Mike's house back in her head as she brushed. He may not have wanted to kill her, but he'd sure wanted that doll. That fucking weird doll. What are the odds that he would come to retrieve it the same night Franky broke in? Was their collective intrusion a coincidence? How did he even know it was there? Or had he been, like her, simply searching in hopes of finding something?

Franky put down the brush and put her palms into her eyes for a moment. But why? There were simply too many unanswered questions. She needed help. At last, at long last, she knew she needed help.

She stood slowly, taking stock of her injuries. Bridget had done a brilliant job on her side, but Franky still felt as though she'd been flayed alive and then sewn back together…well. ..yes that was pretty fucking accurate.

She walked out of the bathroom and went to her dresser, pulling on clean undergarments before reaching into the drawers for her comfy pants. There was no way she'd be able to button anything around those stitches, so, tracky dacs it was.

When she was dressed she went into the hall and listened. She crept quietly down the hall and peeked into the living room. Bridget was sprawled out on the couch, sound asleep. Franky smiled to herself. With all her grace and poise in the vertical, Bridget was definitely an ungraceful mess in the horizontal.

Franky knelt by her side, and brushed her thumb against the sleeping woman's cheek. Still so beautiful.

"Hey Spunky," she whispered.

Bridget hummed gently and turned her face into Franky's hand.

"Are you real?"

Franky smiled, and pressed her lips into Bridget's. "You tell me," she murmured.


	21. Chapter 21

Bridget smiled and stretched out on the couch, unaware of the distinct flutters in Franky's lower belly she was causing. When she opened her eyes, Franky was inches from her face. Bridget stretched again, this time fully aware of her thin night dress and Franky's darkening eyes. She was interested to see Franky turn away from her exposed skin and stand, taking the chair opposite the couch.

Bridget sat up studied the brunette across from her. She looked cleaner, a bit more like herself. Bridget glanced at the clock. 8:30pm? She'd slept the entire day! She checked her phone. One missed call from Vera. One text message.

Prison searched, no Franky. Don't worry.

She breathed a sigh and stood. She walked over to Franky and cupped her face. "I'm going to make you something to eat and take a shower. Then we are going to talk."

Franky twitched her arms as if she was going to touch Bridget, but then simply nodded. Bridget kissed her forehead and moved into the kitchen. "Go back into the bedroom. You shouldn't be out in the open."

Franky nodded again and stood. Seeing Bridget in the kitchen made her frown. "No more floppy soup." She said.

Bridget raised an eyebrow at her. "Well I don't live with a chef anymore, baby. You eat what I eat when you aren't around."

Franky took a step towards the kitchen but Bridget pointed firmly towards the bedroom. "No. Go. I'll be there in a minute."

Franky cast one more anxious look at the things Bridget was taking out of the freezer before padding quietly down the hall and back to the bedroom. Bridget looked after her, a slight frown on her face. That moment on the couch Bridget had been deliberately provocative, knowing that the way she was stretching offered Franky quite a view. Her green eyes had narrowed and her pupils had been dialated with certain arousal, but she'd stepped away. That was a first.

Don't be so bloody selfish. Her mind scolded. This isn't play time. It was hard to resist, though. After watching her pry her beautiful body out from under the bed, after looking down at her, sweat shining on her naked chest...after kissing her urgently right there on the floor. ..but Franky had stopped her. Bridget frowned, remembering. Franky had kissed her passionately until Bridget had settled fully on her. Before they'd reached the point where making out became making love. That's when Franky pulled away.

I'm bleeding on the rug.

That certainly changed the mood. And then just now, that quick look away from the soft exposed inner thighs.

Bridget pulled the microwavable lasagna from its cardboard container and winced at it. Its delivery was not going to go over well. But it's what she had and what she'd eat if Franky hadn't been in the house. Keeping up the pretenses and all. ..

As it was cooking, Bridget leaned against the counter and folded her arms. They hadn't had a chance to speak since that awful day Franky had attacked her. Bridget had left. And then she was forced to remain gone. And then when Franky had surprised her in the bedroom, Bridget had backed away.

Are you here to hurt me?

The whispered 'no' she'd gotten in return was loaded with feeling. Franky loathed herself. Bridget had seen it once that day, moments after Franky attacked her, and then again early this morning.

So she was responding to touch up until a certain point. Was it because she didn't want to touch Bridget? Or was it because she was too ashamed to? She could ask the brunette point blank, but Franky was too damn good at diverting. As intelligent as Bridget was, Franky could still out match her in a verbal confrontation.

The microwave beeped is completion, and Bridget took the streaming plate and put it on the stove to cool. Then she purposefully walked into the bedroom.

Franky stood when she entered, automatically scanning Bridget's hands for the food she'd been smelling. Bridget smoothed out her night dress slowly, and when she'd reached the hem she suddenly grabbed it and in one fluid motion pulled it over her head and cast it aside. She stood, fully naked, in front of the brunette.

Franky let out a startled "ba!" and averted her eyes. Bridget walked up to her with sure steps. The last time she'd seen Franky this terrified was in the moments before and after she'd admitted to accidentally killing Meg Jackson.

Franky was still looking away as Bridget stood exposed in front of her. "Touch me." She commanded softly.

Franky shook her head quickly, not trusting herself to speak. Bridget frowned. "You don't want to?"

Franky flashed her a look before turning her eyes away once again. Oh, the desire was there, plain as day. So she was ashamed. Bridget could work with that. "Franky. .."

She suddenly pushed Franky backwards onto the bed. The startled brunette cried out in shock and pain as Bridget pounced on her and pinned her arms over her head. Bridget gripped her wrists tightly as she slammed one of her knees into Franky's thighs, forcing them open. She stared at Franky with her severe blue eyes.

Franky had gasped and winced as Bridget pushed her legs apart. She balled her hands into fists under Bridget's grip. At last she looked at her. "I know what you are doing." She whispered.

Bridget tightened her grip on Franky's wrists. "And?"

Franky looked at her with a mixture of defiance and resignation. "And I'm not going to fight you."

Bridget leaned forward. "And I'm not going to rape you." She said between clenched teeth.

Franky closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them they sparkled with unshed tears.

"Bridget. ..I'm sorry." She said quietly.

Bridget let out a sigh, not fully realizing until just then how desperately she'd needed to hear those words. She loosened her grip somewhat and nodded. "I know. I saw you then and I see you now."

She let go of one of Franky's wrists and touched her face. "I forgive you." She said tenderly, and meant it. Franky tried to shake her head, tried to hold onto the guilt she thought she deserved to carry, but Bridget gripped her chin. "And you WILL believe that, and you WILL accept it."

She took the hand she'd been holding down and placed it on her side, moving it slowly upwards. "And you WILL touch me, right now, until I am satisfied."

When she let go of Franky's hand the other woman didn't pull away. She fixed her darkened green eyes on Bridget and exhaled sharply. Her tensed body relaxing under Bridget as the most huge and awful burden was lifted off her chest.

She raised her hands slowly, tentatively, and moved them up Bridget's sides. Her mouth twitched into that irresistible crooked smile as she suddenly grabbed Bridget's waist and rolled over, tucking the blond underneath her. Franky couldn't help but grunt with the sudden pain the quick motion caused, but she didn't care if she ripped her stitches wide open.

Franky pushed her lips into Bridget and moved them immediately, begging for access. Permission was granted instantly.

There was no taking it slow. Franky moved her lips over Bridget's jaw and down her neck. She paused her decent briefly when she came to those perfect, full breasts. As she worked her tongue over the sensitive flesh she moved her hands in endless, tender exploration. With each kiss the chasm of mistrust between them closed a little more. With each touch, each burning trail left by urgent fingertips, the bond between them was slowly mended.

Bridget couldn't help but squirm under Franky. She could feel the stubborn brunette's confidence returning. She delighted in each delicious feel of Franky moving over her.

When Franky moved down to where Bridget needed her the most, the blond was beyond ready. "Fuck, woman," Franky breathed into her before that hot mouth was on her.

As Bridget closed her eyes against the building in her lower abdomen she thought fleetingly of that first time with Franky on the couch. This was better oh god, this was better!

"There, there, there!" She cried.

Franky held her tightly as Bridget thrashed beneath her. She felt the spasms before the orgasm hit and removed her tongue, replacing it with two expertly curled fingers.

Bridget screamed her name before she went rigid. Franky grinned as she watched her, feeling the last fragments of hurt between them being swept away. All that was left was love. Pure, once again untainted, love.

Franky felt her lover's exhaustion and she gently soothed her tender flesh in a calming, steady pattern. When Bridget finally relaxed beneath her, Franky crawled back up her now gleaming body and found her mouth for a kiss. In the history of their lips meeting, it was this one that left all the others behind.


	22. Chapter 22

Surprisingly, Franky ate the boxed lasagna without so much as a raised eyebrow. Every now and again she'd glance at Bridget, eyes twinkling. There was a lightness in that endless green that Bridget hadn't seen since the day Franky discovered Bea had been murdered. Bridget smiled as Franky devoured most of the processed meal. She knew that they were about to have a pretty serious conversation, but she wasn't afraid. They were one again.

As Franky ate, Bridget went to get her phone from the living room to respond to the text Vera had sent her hours ago. After a quick reply, she stuffed the phone into her pocket and went back into the bedroom. She laughed at the sleepy, processed food coma state Franky was in. She was sprawled out on her back, her normally flat stomach distinctly distended. Bridget walked over to her and traced a pattern over the little bulge. Franky had shut her eyes, and groaned softly.

"I think I just hurt myself."

Bridget huffed. "I'm not surprised, baby. That lasagna was supposed to feed a family."

"It's all in my belly."

Bridget laughed again, gently rubbing Franky's taut stomach. "So I see. Are you a believer now? In the glory of processed food?"

Franky groaned again. "Don't you need a shower?"

Bridget bent down and lifted Franky's shirt, kissing her full stomach. Franky snapped her eyes open. The other woman smiled into her soft skin, placed one more kiss, and straightened up.

"You're right. I do need a shower."

Franky shook her head. "Tease. Wish I could join you in there."

Bridget smiled again and headed into the bathroom. "Mmm…me too. When I come out we are going to talk about why you can't."

…

Bridget sat on the bed across from Franky. The brunette had a slight frown as she looked at her. She took a breath.

"There's quite a big difference, Gidge, between harboring a felon and harboring a felon with all the details."

Bridget cocked her head, but Franky stepped in quickly. "I'm not saying I don't trust, ya. I do. I'm going to tell you everything. I just need you to know what knowing everything means."

Bridget nodded. "I'm fully aware of the consequences if we get caught. I don't care. I'm with you."

Franky sighed. "This is not what I wanted for you. This is not how I saw our future."

"The future's not set, Franky."

"It is if we can't find out who murdered Mike before I'm caught. It's only a matter of time before Vera has to blast my face all over the telly. I can't believe she's waited this long."

Bridget nodded. "Start from the beginning. ..from the moment you got out."

Franky cocked her head. "You don't wanna know how I slipped the leash, hey?"

Bridget blew out a breath. "Honestly, I'm dying to know. But that particular detail can wait. I want to know who the fuck tried to kill my love."

Franky's eyes widened for a moment at her tone. ..low and dangerous. And then she began to recount what had happened to her since she'd left the prison. She skipped the boring bits; the hiding in the daylight and moving at night, the scrounging, the fear, the sleeping in the bush, the utter exhaustion from walking for miles upon endless miles until she had gotten to Mike's house.

But she went into explicit detail from there. The blank wall, the burned doll, and the man who attacked her. It was at this that Bridget clutched her throat in horror.

"Jesus, Franky, he was going to kill you!"

"He might have. But Gidge, when he saw me in the light he knew my name, my full name! He didn't kill me. He jumped off of me and took the doll and ran."

Bridget frowned. "Go back to the doll. You said its face was burned away?"

Franky nodded. "And it was dressed like me. It was fucking creepy."

Bridget nodded, thinking. "It's more than that, Franky. It proves that Mike was psychologically unstable. First he gets the doll, then he mimics you in dressing it, then he burns its face away. Then he attacks you with a blow torch. His mind had gone sour over the years, and this premeditated attack could have been in progress the second you were incarcerated the first time."

Franky shook her head. "Yeah, it proves he was mental, but wouldn't that be a motive to kill him? He threatens me, a known violent offender, and I kill him for it."

Franky groaned in frustration. "Even if we had the doll, the photos, all the freaky evidence that he was stalking me. ..it would all still point to a motive to get rid of him. It all still points to me."

Bridget reached out and rubbed her arm. "We need to find that man. Describe him again."

Franky looked at the ceiling. "God, I miss Bea. Remember how well she could draw? She saw Niles Jasper in a reflection while she was being drugged. ..and she still drew him to a tee. Mr. Fletcher knew the drawing right away, she was that good."

"I remember." Bridget said sadly. "We'll get back to what he looked like. What did you do after he left?"

Franky touched her side. "I bled all over the floor." She suddenly looked at Bridget, full panic crossing her features. "Fuck! I bled all over the fucking floor!"

She jumped off of the bed and ran to the closet, ripped it open and pulled out a dark hoodie. Bridget was right behind her.

"Whoa, whoa! What are you doing?"

Franky turned to her, her eyes wild. "My DNA is all over that fucking floor, Gidge!"

Bridget watched her as she grabbed her boots and struggled into them. Her own heart was racing. She reached into the closet for a dark jacket. "I'll go."

Franky stopped wrestling with her boots and grabbed Bridget's arm. "No fucking way! You aren't getting caught! I won't let you risk that!"

Bridget pulled her arm free. She shrugged the jacket on and moved to get her shoes. Franky grabbed her again, forcing her to turn and look at her. She spoke through clenched teeth. "No. No! Think. If I get caught, I go back to prison. If you get caught, you go to prison. Only one of us is already screwed at this point. Do not fuck up your life for me."

They glared hard at each other, breathing heavily. Bridget turned in Franky's grip until it was her holding the other woman's arms. "I think that ship has already sailed, hey?"

Franky shook her head. "Gidge, please. Let me go. Please. I'll never forgive myself if something happened to you. Please."

"And what if something happens to you? What if that man is there?"

"Why would he be? No, I've got this. Three hours, tops. Wait for me."

Bridget looked away for a moment, desperately unhappy. "Fuck, Franky." She said softly.

Franky suddenly pulled her into a fierce hug. "I know. I could fill a book with all my fuck ups."

Bridget drew back from the hug and cupped her face. "I'd rather lose you to the system than lose you from this world. You better be damn careful and come back to me."

Franky kissed her, hard. "I promise. Three hours."

She let go of Bridget and looked at the clock. Midnight. After one last look into the eyes she'd memorized, she ran from the room.

Bridget heard the front door quietly open, and then close. She wrapped her jacket around her trembling body and burst into tears.


	23. Chapter 23

Franky cursed herself for twenty different kinds of a fool. She'd barely talked to Bridget. Tonight they were supposed to be hunkered down, igniting their minds around a plan for redemption. But instead, Franky was skulking in the shadows the five miles it took to get back to Mike's house.

She tried to channel her frustrations into her movements. Damn this was harder than she'd expected. The puckered skin around her stitches was less than a day old. Every step, crouch, or dive behind a building caused her breath to hitch and her teeth to clench. Five miles was a long fucking way when most of your right side was sewn up the night before.

Franky grabbed her side and leaned into the darker side of one of the shops. She groaned as she looked at the moon. "Jesus Christ," she whispered. Whether it was a prayer or a curse she didn't know. She looked away from the pale beacon in the sky and instead focused on the peculiar light it cast at her feet. Tonight, it was both a flashlight and a spotlight.

Franky groaned again and held her side tight as she made her way through alleys and side streets. It was easier in the sense that she could go where a car could not, thus making a straight line. ..but at this moment she would have given anything to be in a car. Fuck, five miles was a long way!

Franky ducked into the shadows as a car passed. She never understood how normal people could be driving around at this time of night. Or maybe, like her, they were all just a bunch of fugitives. On wheels. A smarter bunch of fugitives in cars diving away from this shitty part of town. Take me with you. ..

"Come on," she urged herself softly. It was so hard not to feel hopeless, alone in the dark. Even with Bridget waiting for her at the end of this, Franky felt despair. Was she going to hide under the bed all the rest of her life? When would Bridget finally tell her that it was too dangerous. ..that Franky had to go it alone?

It wasn't far now. She knew that Bridget would be beside herself with worry, and that she'd be staring at the clock, waiting for her to come home. As of right now, Bridget was for her, and as of right now that was enough to hold onto.

Franky lurched down the final side street and at last touched the ugly stucco walls she'd been searching for. She eyed the tiny window. There was no fucking way she was getting through that tonight. She carefully walked around the house, looking for another way in.

There was a small porch on the side of the house, facing the street. It was risky to be so exposed, but she had no other choice except kicking in the front door in front of God and everybody.

Franky crept up to the side door and tested the knob. She smiled to herself. She'd known it was unlocked because she hadn't bothered to lock it the last time she'd stumbled from this house. She quietly pushed it opened and slipped inside.

Immediately her senses were assaulted with the powerful sting of bleach. Even as she unconsciously grabbed the door handle to bolt, a hulking shadow to her left moved.

Fuckfuckfuck!

She was grabbed and forcefully jerked deeper into the dark house.

"I knew you'd be back," a rough male voice growled.

Franky growled back, getting over her surprise quickly. For a wild moment the man had a hard time holding onto her. But then he slammed her face first into the living room wall. Franky yelled in pain as her cheek bone swiftly greeted the unyielding drywall. There was a familiar clanking sound behind her as the man crushed her into the wall. With more panic than fear, Franky threw her head back in hopes of catching him on the nose. The back of her head connected with something, but it only made the man curse and throw her to the ground. Franky squeezed her eyes shut tightly against the audible tearing of some or all of her stitches. She tried to grab for her side but the man had already pounced on her, and in one deft motion her hands were cuffed behind her back.

"No! No, no, no, LET ME GO! Fuck!" She screamed.

"Be quiet for fucks sake!"

That big meaty hand went to clap down over her mouth, but in the dark, he only succeeded in smacking her in the face. He cursed again.

"Just be quiet, ok? Christ!"

Franky's head was starting to spin. She lay on her stomach with her hands cuffed into her lower back and screwed up her face, trying not to cry. Dammit! She fleetingly thought of Bridget, sitting alone in their house watching the clock, waiting on a woman who'd never come. A low, wounded animal noise escaped her throat.

The man crouched down beside her and jerked her hoodie up, revealing her wound. Franky didn't fight him. She was too exhausted, too much in pain. Too trapped. Whatever this man was going to do to her, he'd succeed.

But he only got up and crept away. When he came back he was holding. ..a towel. Rather gently he pressed the fabric against her side and rolled her over, pinning the towel between her side and the floor.

"Don't move, and the pressure will stop the bleeding." He said quietly.

Franky lay on the floor and was still. She eyed the man and narrowed her eyes. "Are you a cop?"

The man huffed as he grabbed a scrub brush and continued to sterilize the floor. "And Mike said you were smart. No. I'm not a cop."

"So what, you like to chain women up, do you? You sick fuck."

The man kept scrubbing, and the strong stench of disinfectant burned Franky's nose and made her eyes water. He glanced at her at he worked. "I told ya. I expected you to come back, once you realized what a bloody mess you left on the floor."

"But you're cleaning it.

"I am."

The man moved over the floor on his hands and knees, working the bleach into the wood. Franky kept a watchful eye on him.

"You sent me the picture. Of the kite." She stated.

The man grunted an affirmative and continued scrubbing.

"And you killed Mike."

The man stopped cleaning and Franky held her breath as he turned to her. "You really want to make accusations right now? Kind of in a helpless state, aren't ya?"

"So tell me why? Or kill me. Or shoot me to the cops…wouldn't be the first time you let me take the fall, would it?"

"I should burn this whole fucking place to the ground with you in it." He growled.

Franky's heart skipped a beat. "Do it." She said defiantly. "I'd rather burn than go back to prison for something you did."

The man laughed once, incredulously. "Jesus, I can see why Mike wanted to kill you."

His tone darkened considerably. "Now shut the fuck up while i decide what to do with you."


	24. Chapter 24

"Can you uncuff me? Please." Franky hated to beg, but the pain in her side was excruciating and it was getting hard to breath. She'd been silent for as long as she could stand, watching him work. "Please." She said again.

The man stopped scrubbing. "I don't want to fight you." He warned.

Franky laughed humorlessly. It turned quickly into a moan of pain as her muscles contracted against her wound. The man knelt down beside her and in seconds she was free. He stood, looming over her. "One false move, I'm warning you. .." He let the threat hang in the air, but Franky ignored him. She put her hands on the floor and heaved herself into a sitting position. There was no sting in her side anymore. It was a raging inferno. Her breathing became ragged as she tried to find a position she could tolerate.

The man watched her for a moment and then sighed. "Come here." He murmured. Franky flinched away from him but he grabbed her anyway and hauled her to her feet. She bit back a scream as he dragged her to the couch. "There," he said gruffly. "Now be still before you bleed out."

He picked up a clean towel and tossed it at her. She caught it deftly and shoved it under her hoodie. She could feel the wetness of her blood seeping through it. It seemed as though all her stitches had been ripped out. The wound had fairly burst open… and it wasn't a little blood coming out. She felt lightheaded.

"You may not have to kill me," she said softly. "You might just have to wait me out."

The man sighed and sank into a chair. "I don't want ya dead, Francesca." He sounded so tired.

"Why did you kill Mike?"

His tone sharpened. "Back to that, are we?"

Franky shifted on the couch and had to bite her tongue to stop herself from crying out. Breathing wasn't getting easier. "Come on. Dead girls tell no tales."

The man got up and came over to the couch, kneeling down. "Let me see."

Franky leaned away from him. "Fuck off!" Her voice was weak and slurry. and she felt vaguely far away. Her legs were numb and the inferno had died down. What was happening?

The man sighed impatiently and reached for the hem of her hoodie. Franky indignity smacked his hands away. She felt like she was underwater. He roughly grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the sides of her head. "Be. Still." He said through clenched teeth.

Franky was starting to shiver uncontrollably. The man lifted her hoodie and squinted in the dark room. "Bloody hell!" He swore. He instinctively pressed the towel into her side more firmly. It was already soaked in her blood.

Franky felt his hands on her. She felt her body tremble. Her head was spinning and the darkened room made it all the easier to close her eyes. What was happening?

You're dying. Her brain told her. Franky frowned, unable to think that through.

The man patted her face frantically. "Hey! No, no…stay awake. Jesus, please. ..come on, girl! Fuck!"

But Franky was sinking deeper and deeper into a black oblivion. If she'd just let go, Bridget would be free…truly out of danger. She wouldn't go to prison. It had been selfish to hang onto her for so long. Franky's arms fell to her side as she let her body relax into the depths of the dark. In the back of her cloudy mind she heard the man wailing her name. Funny, but she'd never asked his. There was quick sensation of vertigo as he lifted her from the couch, but she didn't care. She was already reaching for the abyss with open arms. I love you, Bridget Westfall…


	25. Chapter 25

When Franky had left her, Bridget felt as though a apart of her was dying. She'd just come home!

Bridget shook her head. No, she was still a fugitive. But to have her in the house, to be able to talk to her, touch her. ..Bridget smiled…be touched by her! It wasn't something she wanted to lose.

How was this to end? Franky was damned determined to find Mike's killer, but at what cost? He'd almost killed her during their last encounter. How was she ever going to find him now? And then get him to confess? What if he skipped the country now that she'd seen his face?

Bridget could see no happy ending. It always led back to Franky behind bars…or dead. And she knew that Franky preferred the latter.

Bridget sat on the chair that faced the front door. It was unlocked. She rubbed her tired eyes and looked at the clock. It was almost 3am. If anything, Franky was a woman of her word. She'd be home any minute now.

The door knob turned. Bridget's heart leapt in her throat as she raced for the front door. That's my girl!

Bridget's hand flew to her mouth when it wasn't Franky that slipped through the door, but a giant of a man. And he was covered in blood. They met startled eyes for and instant, and then Bridget turned and fled into the living room.

The man tackled her as she reached her phone. She let out a yell and writhed against him furiously. But the man easily pinned her to the floor. He snatched the phone from her hand. Bridget bucked wildly underneath him, desperate to remain in the present. Not again, not again! Her mind screamed.

"Christ, I can see why she likes you, ya fucking demon! Be still!"

His words came out in a hushed yell. Bridget's mind raced to keep up with what he'd just said. She froze "What?"

The man blew out a breath. "I'm going to go out that door now, and when I get back, if you've called the cops, I'll see to it she dies in your arms."

Bridget's voice rose an octave. "What?" She said again.

But the man let her go and got to his feet. "Stay." He commanded.

He went to the front door and looked back at her once, and Bridget couldn't read his face. She slowly sat up and showed him her empty hands. He left the front door open when he left, and Bridget cautiously stood. She eyed her phone, still laying on the floor, but clenched her jaw. And waited.

Within moments he was back, and to her horror he was carrying Franky. Her eyes were closed and her skin was waxy and pale. Bridget rushed to the kitchen table and in one sweep of her arm she cleared it.

"Here!"

The man lumbered into the dining area and rather gently laid a very still, very…dead…looking Franky.

"I brought her back to ya. It's what she would have wanted."

Bridget grabbed for Franky's throat. So faint. Her pulse was so faint. "What did you do to her?" Her voice was breaking.

The man turned to leave. "I brought her back to ya." He said again. Bridget grabbed his arm.

"Wait! Please. ..please help me."

He shook her off. "Fuck you want me to do? Call the fucking ambo!"

Bridget looked back at Franky, desperately torn. But she held the man back when he started to leave again. "You can save her." She whispered.

"What?"

Bridget looked at him pleadingly. "She needs blood. Now. She's AB positive."

The man shrugged her off his arm. "What does that mean?"

Bridget slowly walked around him until she was between him and the front door. She raised her hands when he narrowed his eyes. "It means that she is a universal recipient. You could save her right now. If you leave…" She couldn't finish.

The man cast a glance at Franky, laying on the hopeless edge of death. He brushed his fingers through his hair. "Christ." He muttered. But he rolled up a sleeve.

Bridget couldn't believe it, but she didn't question it. She flipped into nurse mode. "Lock the door and scrub your arm." She said firmly. When he turned to obey she gripped his wrist. "Scrub your arm."

He wrenched his hand free. "I heard you!" He locked the kitchen door, muttering something about pushy lesbians, as Bridget closed all the blinds. As she went to Franky's side, the man lumbered into the hall bathroom. Bridget leaned down and kissed Franky's forehead. She refused to think about how cold it felt. She rested her hand briefly on that fluttering pulse. "Oh no you don't, my love. You'll not leave me. Not yet." She said softly.

She ran into the bedroom to fetch her bag to perform the biggest longshot of her life.


	26. Chapter 26

Bridget pulled a chair to the head of the table and rested her weary body. She tenderly stroked the sides of Franky's face; her hair. She shook her head as her eyes filled with tears. She'd done everything she could. She cleaned, stitched and bandaged the hideous wound. Even now, as she lay her head with her lips close to Franky's ear, blood was flowing into her veins from a surgical tube connected to the very man who had tried to kill her.

"Franky," she whispered softly. She knew the brunette couldn't hear her, but she didn't care. "Franky, my love, come back to me. Come back. .." She kissed the ear as she started to cry.

The man raised his head sluggishly. He'd been sitting in that chair for almost an hour. He had been skeptical at first, and then fascinated as he watched Bridget work. "I didn't mean to hurt her."

Bridget turned an icy stare at him. "This time, or the time before?" She narrowed her eyes. "Or the time before that?"

The man shifted uncomfortably in the chair. As Franky's skin turned back into her beautiful olive tones, the man's flesh was turning paler. Bridget didn't care. But she didn't want to kill him either. Instinctively she knew that this man was the key to Franky's freedom. She watched as he rubbed his eyes. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

During her many years as a psychologist, Bridget heard that phase a thousand times. ..always spoken by the desperate individual, in way over their head. She got up stiffly and walked over to him. As she carefully pulled out the field transfusion needle she said, "I know that you didn't mean to hurt her. I can see that you are. ..a good person. Perhaps a good person who's made a few mistakes?"

The man looked at her sharply. Bridget calmly wiped his arm with an alcohol pad. "I'll bring you some juice. She may need more blood. Please, won't you stay?"

The man nodded, and Bridget went into the kitchen. Think, think! Once Franky was clearly out of the woods the man would disappear. ..most likely forever. He was already balancing on tenterhooks as it was. He seemed like the kind of man who felt more at home creeping down alleyways. He certainly looked damned out of place in her spotless dining room. But, considering that her bloody and barely alive lover was sprawled out on the table in front of him. ..together they made for a pretty grotesque Norman Rockwell inspiration.

Bridget placed an glass of juice before him. "Will you tell me your name?"

The man sipped the juice and made a face. "No."

"Bridget was unfazed. "My name is Bridget," she said conversationally.

The man finished his juice. "I know who you are."

Bridget raised an eyebrow. "Do you? Have we met?"

The man shook his head and wiped his face. There was no color in his skin and he was sweating. Bridget moved towards him. "Do you need to lie down?"

He shook his head. "Maybe a different chair. Me arse is numb."

He got up, a bit too quickly, and swayed. Bridget had seen this coming and reached out for him. For a moment he allowed her to stay him, but then he pushed her away. "I'm fine," he said gruffly.

He stumbled into the living room and sank heavily into one of the large, plush chairs. His eyelids were heavy.

Bridget handed him another glass of juice and as he put it to his lips he eyed her for the first time. "What I wouldn't give for a woman like you."

Bridget felt her skin crawl and unconsciously backed away a step, but the man had already closed his eyes. "I can see why she likes you." He mumbled. Bridget had to take his juice from him as his arm dropped. Whether he'd fainted or fallen asleep, she didn't care. As long as he stopped looking at her like that.

Bridget stood in the middle of the living room and looked into the kitchen. One scruffy, filthy, bloody man passed out in one room, and one scruffy, filthy, bloody woman passed out on a table in the other. Here she stood between them, utterly dead on her feet. God if anyone walked in! What a picture they'd make!

Bridget snapped her head up suddenly. What a picture indeed! She fairly flew to where her phone was still lying on the living room floor. She quickly turned the volume off and turned to the sleeping man. She took several time stamped photos of him before she stepped back, satisfied. She even took a picture of the tread of his large boots, propped messily on her ottoman. Then she crept out front and took several of his car, vin number and license plate. She took photos of both the inside and outside of his car.

When she walked back inside she moved to Franky and checked her pulse and blood pressure. Steady. "That's my girl." She smiled and lightly pressed her lips into Franky's. There was no response, none except the steady rising and falling of her chest, and the beautifully rhythmic thumping of her heart under Bridget's hand. For Bridget, that was enough.

She sat back in her chair by Franky's head and smoothly slipped the phone in the hood of her sweatshirt. Most of the hood was covered by Franky's hair. Satisfied, Bridget laid her head once again as close to Franky as she could, wrapping an arm around her head protectively.

As her eyes got heavier, a strange little thought came to her. It only took her by surprise because it was in stark contrast to her norm. Bridget realized that she was the physically stronger of the three people in this house. Franky always won in any tussle they've had. Bridget couldn't help but smile at the thought that flashed across her vision. She stroked her thumb down Franky's cheek. Lord, she never minded losing to this one.

She thought of the man, and frowned. He wasn't going to be able to throw her to the floor again. Not down several pints. Bridget had intentionally taken a dangerous amount of his blood. She'd wanted Franky to have as much as she needed, but she certainly overshot it.

She didn't like being tackled and pinned to the fucking floor.

She nuzzled Franky's neck, loving the color of life creeping back into her skin, and slowly formed a plan in her sleep depraved mind.


	27. Chapter 27

Bridget bolted upright. Her back was killing her and however long she'd slept wasn't enough. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

Franky had moved.

Bridget stood quickly and regretted it just as fast. She gripped the edges of the table. This many nights without sleep and she was going to start making frighteningly poor decisions. Whatever had been rolling around the back of her brain in the hours before now came crashing to the forefront of her mind.

Like that one. ..

She cast a quick and fearful glance into the living room. The man was stirring awake. In the second it took her to fix her eyes back on Franky's beautiful face, she'd made up her mind.

Think you'll look good in teal, do you? Her mind asked. In the next room, the man dropped his propped feet to the floor and was rubbing his eyes. Bridget narrowed hers.

Damn fine. Her heart answered savagely. The man let out a huge yawn. Franky moved again.

Bridget leaned over Franky and held her head. "Don't move!" She whispered frantically.

Franky lolled her head to the side. Her eyelids fluttered open. "Gidge?"

Bridget moved around the table and held Franky's face. She leaned in close, her heart pounding. She put her lips to Franky's ear. "Baby! Baby be still. Please. I need you to listen to me!"

There was an urgency her voice that, even in her weakened condition, Franky didn't miss. Her eyes were definitely open now. "Gidge?" She croaked softly. Her brow crinkled with pain and worry.

"Danger!"

That was the only word Bridget had time to whisper before the man came groggily into the room. He leaned against the doorway for a moment, studying Franky. If he'd been looking at Bridget he may have noticed the flush in her cheeks. As it was, he only saw Franky in that moment. "She looks better. Did she wake up?"

Bridget realized she was still holding Franky's head. She looked down at her. Thank god Franky had closed her eyes. Looking from afar she seemed dead to the world, but up close was different. Bridget had spent enough nights next to this woman to know when she was awake. She banked on the fact that Franky could hear her, while the man remained oblivious .

"No she hasn't woken up yet. I think…I think she needs more blood."

The man frowned, moving in closer. "Yeah? How can you tell?"

Bridget was quick. "Her heart is beating too rapidly. Here…feel!"

She took the man's hand and…

sorry, baby

…put it directly on Franky's heart. His eyes widened as Bridget cupped his hand directly on top of Franky's left boob. If she pulled this off, after all they had been through, it would be this moment that Franky would never let her live down.

The man shifted quite uncomfortably and tugged his hand away. "Um…seems nice…uh…very strong. .."

Bridget clicked her tongue in impatient worry. "It's pounding. Her heart is working too hard to push blood that isn't there through her body. Please!"

She wailed the last word and the man backed up a step. "Ok! Alright. Let me go clean up." He looked at her dead in the eyes. "But after this, I'm gone." It was both a warning and a threat.

She nodded at him curtly and as soon as he disappeared down the hall, Bridget grabbed Franky's face and kissed her. Her knees weakened when she felt the prostrate woman kiss her back. She reached out and lightly brushed her hand over Franky's heart, resting it on her breast. Franky, her eyes still closed, murmured, "I'll get you for that."

Bridget smiled down at her and kissed her quickly, giving her breast a gentle, loving squeeze. "Hush," she whispered. "You're not awake yet."

She went into the kitchen and began to scrub her hands. The last bit of rational thought left tried to reason with her.

It's not too late to change your mind…

Bridget rinsed her hands as the man came back into the dining room. He sat down and lay his bare arm on the table. He was looking at Franky and didn't care that Bridget was moving behind him.

Bridget raised the frying pan and hit him square on the back of the head. The force of the blow knocked the man forward and he banged his forehead on the tabletop in a duel sickening thud. It was as if a puppeteer cut his strings. He collapsed onto the table unconscious.

Well, her mind said, resigned, well, no. NOW it's too late.


	28. Chapter 28

Franky snapped her eyes open in surprise as the man's head hit the table. "Gidge?"

Bridget was breathing hard. She'd never done something like that. Franky tilted her head and stared at her wide eyed. "What? What's happening?" She put a groggy arm out. Bridget came to her side immediately. She stroked the length of her arm and felt her forehead.

"He brought you here. You were. ..you were dying. He gave you blood."

Franky gripped her, wincing as she moved. She blew out a breath. "I thought I had. I wish I had. You'd be free."

Bridget shook her head. "When will you realize that my life is only complete with you in it?"

Franky pulled her closer and for a moment they lost themselves in each other. When Bridget pulled away she cleared her throat and wiped her eyes. Franky eyed the man again. "What are you gonna do with him?"

Bridget's face hardened. "I'm going to get the truth."

Franky nodded her head towards his pocket. "He's got cuffs. He was at the house, bleaching the place. He surprised me again."

"And he hurt you?"

"We wrestled. He said he knew I'd come back. He didn't mean to rip my stitches open."

Bridget riffled through the man's pockets and pulled out the cuffs. She didn't bother asking why he may have had them. They would get all the answers soon enough. She propped him up in the chair and cuffed his hands behind it. Then she went into the kitchen junk drawer and pulled out a roll of duct tape. After she taped his ankles to the chair legs, she hesitated, and then taped his thighs together and his chest to the back of the chair. Franky watched, stunned, a wicked gleam in her eye.

"You're kinda turning me on, Gidge."

Bridget huffed at her and kept working. She took a clean surgical tube and connected a needle and butterfly closure in one end. She expertly found a vein in the man's arm and rammed the needle in. After taping it she opened the butterfly closure a fraction. Blood came down the tube swiftly, and she quickly closed the pathway again. She went into the kitchen and pulled out a deep soup cauldron, setting it by the man's chair. She dropped the dangling tube into the cauldron.

Franky was starting to catch on. "Uh…Gidge? I'm not turned on anymore. I'm grossed out."

Bridget finally straightened up. "I told you. We're getting answers."

Franky flopped her arm towards the man. "Or what, you'll bleed him out? Collect all his blood in our soup pot?"

Bridget went to her side and slipped an arm under her head. She pulled out the phone she'd hidden there hours earlier and stuffed it into her pocket.

"Yes." She said simply. She reached for Franky again. "Come on. No more table."

"I wanna stay!"

"Franky you need to be in bed! Now come on!"

Franky crossed her arms and looked at the ceiling. "No."

Bridget sighed. She went into the living room and began dragging the plush chair into the dining room. When it was close to the unconscious man, she looked at Franky, her eyebrows raised. Franky nodded.

Bridget went over to her and with great effort and not a little cursing, got Franky off of the table and into the chair. "You need to eat. You've gone pale again."

Franky didn't argue. The recent excursion completely wearing her out. Bridget checked the man's pulse before she went into the kitchen. She then pulled out another can of soup from the pantry and dumped its contents into a bowl. She only warmed it before she brought it to Franky, daring her with her eyes to fuss. The brunette glanced at the man in front of her and knew better. She downed the soup without a word.

When Bridget took the bowl from her, Franky caught her wrist and pulled her closer. "I want dessert."

But Bridget shook her head. "You wouldn't live though what I want to do to you right now."

Franky's eyes widened and she cocked her head, keeping ahold of that slender wrist. "Oh yeah?" Her signature lopsided smile spread over her face.

Bridget inverted their hands until it was she who was gripping Franky. She leaned in and rested their hands on either side of the arm rest. She brought her face close to Franky's, her eyes inches from the other woman's face. She was looking at Franky's lips. Her voice was low, sultry and rough. "Oh yeah. What I want to do to you, right now. .." She scraped her teeth along Franky's jaw until she'd caught her bottom lip in her mouth. She tugged on it gently before letting go. "you wouldn't make it."

Franky had leaned her head back in the chair, her breath becoming shallow. "Jesus, woman. Don't you start something. .."

She didn't finish. Bridget suddenly whipped around, and with Franky peeking from behind her they stared at a very awake, very angry man. His face was pale and his eyes were dark with rage. He struggled violently for a moment, but then suddenly stopped, looking rather ill. "What the fuck, you crazy bitch! I saved your girlfriend's life!"

Bridget reached down and opened the butterfly closure. A steady, sickening stream of blood poured out. The man turned white and looked at her in horror.

Bridget shut the closure and turned to the man calmly.

"If it hadn't been for you, her life wouldn't need saving."

"You don't know what you're talking about." He growled.

Bridget narrowed her eyes and reached for the closure again, but Franky put a hand on her arm. "Easy, Gidge." She looked at the man.

"I've a feeling you know more about us than you're trying to let on, yeah? So look, whatever really happened, tell us. We can help. There will be a way out of this."

"If I don't, is she going to kill me?"

Neither women answered him, but when the man looked into Bridget's eyes he sucked in a breath. There really wasn't a reason to verbalize the definitive yes he saw in them.

"Can I at least have some juice or something? I'm buggered."

Bridget went into the kitchen to get him a glass of juice. The man looked at Franky. "You know there's no point to this. Confession under duress and all that."

Franky looked at him and shrugged. "Give us a chance, hey? Something terrible happened a month ago. Think of this as a chance for redemption."

"I'll go to prison. I'll be fucked. Just let her kill me."

Bridget returned with his juice, a pink straw poking out of it. She reached for the butterfly closure. "Ok."

Both the man and Franky hollered simultaneously.

"Gidge!"

"Christ!"

Franky grabbed her arm and pulled her closer to the chair, slipping one arm firmly around her waist. Her involuntary cry of pain this movement caused was what stopped Bridget. She froze under Franky's arm and wrapped one of her own around the sitting woman's shoulders. They both needed the support.

The man looked at the severe blond and lowered his head to sip his juice. "You're crazy." He muttered.

Franky had to tighten her grip around Bridget's waist as she leaned forward. "You don't know me." She snarled.

The man sighed, looking completely resigned. "Yeah, Bridget. I do."


	29. Chapter 29

The man sipped more if his juice. "My name is Daniel. Mike found me eight months ago. ..through…maybe some dodgy channels. He told me a pretty big story about his wife skipping out on him, taking all his money. He hired me to follow you."

Bridget's eyes shot up, but Franky gagged. "Ugh! What?"

Mike raised his voice over her. "I'm not from here, ok? And I don't watch stupid reality cooking shows. I didn't know!"

Bridget placed a calming hand on the arm that had inadvertently tightened around her waist. "Keep going."

"I did some research. I'm not a cop, or even a PI, so I didn't have access to all those resources. Mike told me where you lived and I watched you. I followed you."

Franky scowled at him. "Regular peeping tom, aren't ya? Like what you saw, you fucking perv?"

Daniel shrugged. "I needed the money, and he had loads of it. He paid me to follow you and take pictures of you, her and all the places you both went on a regular basis."

Franky make a move for the butterfly closure but Bridget, exasperated, gripped her. "Franky." She murmured.

Daniel had leaned away from her as she moved, and sipped more juice nervously. "Look, I'm not stupid. After a while I could tell something was off."

He nodded at Bridget. "Not because of you. Lots of women ditch their blokes for other women…especially ones like you."

Franky lunged for the closure again. Daniel's eyes widened. "I'm just sayin I get it, alight? At least I thought I had." He watched as Bridget firmly kept Franky in her chair. Franky was glowering at him.

"Like I said, the more I followed you, the more I realized something was off. I met Mike on a weekly basis then. One day I asked him about it. He got real agitated, and yelled at me to just do the job.

Money's money, so I did. I didn't really care how weird it was getting. People hire me for my discretion.

But I did start going to the local pubs, and asked a few questions. It must be pretty dull in this town, because even years later you are still a big story to the locals. I learned that you'd just been paroled.

I went on the Internet and watched the footage. I read the read the articles. I even watched a few of the reruns of that show."

He looked at Franky. "Mike was a dick to you. Seemed his favorite thing was to rip into ya on every episode, regardless how good you were. I can see why ya burned him." His look darkened. "And I could see why he hated you so much."

Daniel studied Franky for a moment. Then his expression softened. "But you did your time. You got out, and from what I learned, you spent your days trying to help folks from going down the same path. Most of my clientele are shit people, having me document even shittier people. I've seen my share of the filth of humanity. "

He smiled for the first time. "But you surprised me. Both of you. Never quite seen this before. I saw that you were a good person." He glanced at Bridget. "A good person who'd made a mistake.

After learning all of this, I confronted Mike. I didn't know how. ..fucking mental...he'd become. He'd plastered all the pictures I'd taken of you all over the living room wall. He had that weird fucking doll propped up at the kitchen table. It seemed the happier you both looked in the photos, the more enraged he got.

He started telling me all the things he had planned for you. ..it was… gross. Christ, it turns my stomach just thinking about them. I'm not gonna tell you what they were, but I will tell ya that it ended with you being the one buried behind that wall."

Bridget paled and Franky leaned her head against the other woman's hip. Neither of them had realized how close Franky had come to the completion of Mike's sick agenda. Honestly, Franky thought that burning her face to match his was all he had set out to achieve.

Daniel paused for a moment. He watched as his words echoed around their minds, flashing fragments of emotions across their faces. Bridget looked as of she'd be sick. She went into the kitchen to refill his juice. Daniel looked at Franky. "I'm not a monster. I tried to warn ya, I did. I called here, but your lady answered. I didn't know what to do. Mike said if I went to the cops he'd tell them I was his accomplice. He had all the evidence he needed with the bank transactions and photos blasted all over his wall."

Bridget set the juice in front of him and returned to Franky's side, putting her arm once again across her shoulders. She knew from the look on her face she was already working the system in her mind. She absentmindedly stroked the shoulder she held and stared at the man, her face one again composed. If Franky could keep her cool, then so could she. "So what did you do?"

Daniel took a drink gratefully. The more he spoke, the less gruff he became. His tone was earnest. He had needed to get this off his chest. "After he threatened me, I told him I was done. I wouldn't go to the cop's, cause I'd fucked myself already, but I sure as hell wasn't gonna be part of what he had planned for you."

Daniel leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. "I'd been following you both for so long I kinda found myself caring what happened to you. Mike was going through with his plan whether I helped him or not, and it sickened me. You ladies didn't deserve to go through that. I just felt you'd been through enough, hey? I couldn't just leave, so I just kept an eye on ya? I just kept watching."

He looked from the ceiling to Franky. "I was there in the alley when you talked that kid down. That was pretty fucking ballsy. I thought he was going to top you for sure. But you. ..you got to him, and you got the gun. I watched you dump it, and took I it when you left."

Franky shook her head. "But why?"

"I don't know! I didn't think. I just took it. I carried it around with me."

Bridget interrupted. "Then why weren't your fingerprints on it?"

The man gave her a crooked smile. "Because I know how to handle a gun." He said simply. "I always carried the basics, and gloves are a staple.

Anyway I thought things had settled down. Day after day you both seemed ok. Mike was laying low. I'd thought he'd abandoned his crazy ideas and moved on."

Daniel sighed. "He should have. He should have left you alone. The day I decided to skip town I saw him. It'd been such a while since I'd seen him I almost missed him. He was hunkering into a bakery. And then you came running out."

Daniel looked at Franky and shook his head. "Why the fuck did you go back in?"

Franky rubbed temples. "Argh. Because…because he seemed genuine. And I wanted closure. I wanted to say I was sorry for what I'd done. I knew it would never be enough that I'd gone to prison for assaulting him. I needed him to hear that I was really sorry."

"That was bloody stupid of you."

Franky eyed the butterfly closure and the man huffed at her. "Well it was. Anyway, I knew he wouldn't grab you in public but I wanted to be sure. I hung around till you came out. He came out a minute later and I grabbed him and pulled him into the alley. I warned him to leave you alone. I told him that you'd done your time for what you did. I told him if he didn't let ya be then I'd shoot him to the cops, regardless what would happen to me.

He seemed to be in a better place since the last time I saw him. Said you two had a good conversation and it seemed to be what he'd needed all along. Said I should drop in the next day to get the rest of the money he owed me."

Daniel frowned. "He even told me about your kite, and what it meant to you. I thought he was genuine. The crazy just was gone. So I agreed. We set up a time and I left him there. I knew once I had the rest of my cash, I was gone from this town for a damn long time."

He looked at the two women holding tightly to each other. "I didn't see how fucking wrong I was. ..just how unhinged he'd become."


	30. Chapter 30

Daniel shifted in the chair. He looked at the women watching him. "Is this really necessary?" He indicated to all the duct tape. "I gotta piss."

Bridget and Franky glanced at each other in silent communication. Daniel squirmed. "Come on. I just drank a gallon of juice."

Bridget twitched towards him but Franky tightened her grip on the other woman's waist. "So piss. And keep talking."

"I'll untie you when you finish," Bridget said hurriedly.

Daniel muttered something about cruel lesbians, but after one look at Franky, he sighed. "Fine, but I'm about to make a mess on your floor…"

He got no sympathy, so he squirmed uncomfortably, and continued his story. "There's not much left anyway," He said. "When I got to Mike's house the next day he was out of his fucking mind. He was ranting raving about a blow torch or something. I gathered he'd tried to take you on," He looked at Franky, "and failed. Anyway he was scared shitless, and was tearing all the photos off of the wall. I'd seen some crazy in my time, but this was some next level insanity. Nothing I said or did could reach him. Then he turned on me with a kitchen carver. He was yelling about trace evidence. I think he thought you were going to the cops. I don't scare easily, but I tell ya, that fucker was frightening. He came at me with the carver and. ..i shot him."

The man stopped talking as the weight of his confession fell off of him. He looked at the table top, and sounded miserable. "I'd never killed anyone before," He whispered. "Mike kind of froze in mid stride, and then he was dead. I panicked. I was part of all this. So I grabbed up the pictures and shoved the doll into the hole he'd meant for you. I found some spackle in the garage and fixed up the hole. I wiped the place down."

He glanced up at Franky. "I saw on the news that the cops had pinned you for it. I…I didn't mean for that. ..for any of this. ..but I was scared. I thought when things settled down, I'd go back for the doll and anything else I missed. I didn't know you were going to be there that night. "

Franky leaned forward. "Why did you send me the picture of the kite?"

Daniel shrugged, exhaustion covering his features. "Guilt, I guess. Christ, no one believed you didn't do it. I guess I just wanted you to know that someone out there did."

Franky leaned back in the chair with a wince and blew out a breath. "Fuck."

Bridget went into the kitchen to get scissors. Without a word she began cutting away the duct tape holding the man in place. She removed the needle from his arm and dropped it into the soup pot. She touched the cuffs. "Where is the key?"

Franky looked at her anxiously. "Gidge…"

"Coat pocket," the man said. "Please, I'm dying for the dunny!"

Franky gripped the armrests tightly as she watched Bridget reach into Daniel's coat pocket and come out with the little silver key. When she uncuffed him, he slowly stretched his arms in front of him and stood carefully to his feet. As he stood, Bridget stepped back, remembering with a sudden wave of uncertainty just how large this man was.

Daniel remained still for a moment and the room collectively held its breath. He looked down at Franky, who seemed poised to attack or defend, and gave her a small smile. "Still think you can get me out of this?"

Franky relaxed and nodded slowly. "With the right defense lawyer…and I happen to know a few." For the first time she smiled at him. When he left to use the bathroom Bridget blew out the breath she was holding. She faced Franky and took out her phone. Franky's eyes widened. "What are you doing?" She whispered.

"What do you think I'm doing? Bridget whispered back. "I'm calling Vera! I have his whole confession recorded on this phone!"

Franky struggled with surprise, panic and admiration. "Holy fuck, Gidget!" But then she hesitated. "We need to get our stories straight, and stick with them. A whole lot of illegal shit has been happening lately. .."

Bridget held the phone tightly. "We'll tell the truth. All of it."

Franky shook her head wildly. "No way! I might be in the clear for murder, but you're in deep, DEEP shit, Gidge!"

"No, she'll be right."

Both of the women jumped. Daniel had returned and was leaning against the door frame. He felt the knot on the back of his head and made a pained face. "Call the cops. We'll tell them everything except about the fucking soup pot. Tell them I brought Franky here and you fixed her up. Tell them everything I told you."

Franky liked that idea, but she frowned at Daniel. "You'll give yourself up?"

"For you? Maybe. For her?" He grinned lopsidedly at Bridget. "Most definitely. Maybe you'll be my psych in Walford, hey?"

Bridget pursed her lips, knowing that under his flirt was a very real fear. "Thank you." She said quietly. She dialed Vera's number as the man gathered up the soup pot and washed it out. Franky's head was spinning. Was this it? Was it over?

They all sat around the kitchen table while they waited on Vera. Franky had only heard snippets of conversation, but Bridget made it sound like both Franky and Daniel had just arrived a short while ago. She nervously bounced her knee until Bridget put a calming hand on it. "It's ok now," She whispered.

They all started at the knock on the door. Bridget got up immediately to answer it. Franky looked at the man. He looked like he was going to throw up. "You got this far," she murmured. "I won't let you rot in Walford."

"You won't have a choice if you're rotting in Wentworth," he shot back nervously.

Bridget came back into the kitchen, tailed by Vera. ..and three uniforms. Franky gave her a small smile, fully aware what she'd put the governor through. Vera looked coldly at her for the briefest instant before turning to the other officers. "Arrest them." When they moved towards Franky and Daniel, Vera cleared her throat and turned the same cold stare at Bridget. "All of them."


	31. Chapter 31

Franky, her hands already held out to the officers, jerked back. "What? No! She didn't do anything!"

Bridget saw Vera's face. It was a blank, frozen stare. There would be no taking to her. Not right now, anyway. She put a calming hand on Franky's arm. "They have to take Daniel and I downtown for questioning. It will be ok."

Franky felt sick as she watched with bile rising in her throat as the officer reached for Bridget's wrists. She didn't notice the other officer was reaching for her own. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she looked wild eyed at Bridget.

Bridget saw her expression, saw that fight or flight war behind those electric green eyes and shook her head minutely. "Calm down. You'll rip your stitches." She murmured. "This is routine."

Franky knew how the law worked. She glared at Vera. "What ever happened to innocent before proven guilty, hey? Ms. Westfall shoots me to the cops and you arrest her for it?"

Vera fixed her with the same cold stare. "You are fighting awful hard for a woman who just lagged on you."

There was the slightest warning in Vera's tone, and Franky scowled, knowing she'd better be damn careful. The uniform in front of her might be small, but there was still a cop inside it, and somewhere deep under all of that was a friend. A wave of nausea hit her and she swayed. As the metal clicked around her wrists and her upper arm was taken, she took a deep breath. "Yeah, I told her to. I found the bloke who killed Mike. He agreed to turn himself in. We came here so there'd be a witness. Whole thing's on record. See for yourself!"

Vera's expression didn't change. She turned to the officer's. "Separate cars. This is the last time they see each other until they are individually questioned. Bag the phone, search the house."

Franky jerked against the man who had started to lead her away, angry again. "What the fuck for?"

"Franky! Stitches!"

"Doyle! Language!"

Franky stumbled and turned pale. Alarmed, the uniform let go of her arm and wrapped his arm around her waist. Franky grit her teeth and grabbed his arm, moving it away from her side. She caught Bridget's eye and tried to communicate silently with her. For some reason her love looked really calm. Vera was being impossible, but Bridget was calm. Franky's heart rate spiked as the uniform impatiently tugged her towards the front door.

Surely there was evidence that Franky had been in the house longer than a few hours? That they had held an emergency transfusion right here on the fucking dining room table? That Franky had been in her bed; her bathroom? And what of the man? Franky's mind raced. Blood and hair on a frying pan. Adhesive marks on his clothing. His handcuffs with all their DNA on them. Scraps of cut duct tape. Hair, mud, dust, blood, prints…fucking everything to indicate that more had happened here than they were letting on.

Daniel and Bridget had hurriedly cleaned the house before Vera showed up with the uniforms. ..but she'd seen people go away for a long time based on the presence of one little fiber. Franky knew it wasn't enough. From the looks of it, Vera was determined to find something that Bridget couldn't explain, and their stories were going to get mixed up.

Franky was pushed past Bridget and as she walked by she whispered, "I'm sorry, Gidge."

"I love you, Baby." Came the almost inaudible reply. Their whole relationship summed up in seven words. Franky felt the now familiar rip in her chest has her heart began to physically break. Again. A large hand pushed her head into one of the two squad cars. From the window she could see Daniel disappearing into the other. Bridget, it seemed, was riding with Vera.

…

Vera was quiet as she drove downtown with Bridget cuffed in the back seat.

"Bridget, what the fuck?" She suddenly blurted.

Bridget could see her pained expression in the rear view mirror. All the hurt and betrayal and anger blasted at her in the inflection of that last word.

"She found him, Vera. And then she found me."

"How do you expect me to believe you?"

Bridget sighed. "Because, Vera, it's the truth." In fact it was…with a whole lot left out. "She's proved her innocence. Daniel killed Mike in self defense. It's all on the phone."

Vera's knuckles turned white as her grip on the steering wheel tightened. "You should have called me immediately."

"As soon as he confessed, I did."

"You do realize how bad this looks, right? How unbelievable?

Bridget closed her eyes for a moment. She had said those exact words to Franky not long ago. She knew how Vera felt.

"I know. But it's the truth."

"You mentioned something about stitches?"

Bridget's mind raced for a split second. "Franky is hurt. She'll need medical attention at the prison."

Vera sucked in a breath, but Bridget stopped her next question. "Vera," she said quietly, but then closed her mouth. Vera glanced at her once in the rear view mirror and clenched her jaw. They didn't speak again until they pulled into the station down town. Before Vera got out of the car she turned to face Bridget. Her eyes, though still pained, had a look of despair in them.

"Tell me what to do. Tell me…how…"

Bridget gave her a grateful smile as she held up her hands. "You tell the truth, Vera. You came to me when Franky escaped and searched my house. She wasn't there. She'd stolen my badge to escape. You advised me to remain away from the prison until things were sorted. You've done nothing wrong."

Vera closed her eyes for a moment. "I've done a lot of things wrong, Bridget. I just don't want putting you in teal to be one of them. Just tell me you didn't become a felon because of Franky."

Bridget pursed her lips. "I guess that's for the judge to decide."


	32. Chapter 32

Franky sat in the processing room, fighting to remain conscious. Her stomach was in knots as she waited for someone. ..anyone. ..to take her to medical. All she could see behind her bloodshot eyes was the love of her life in handcuffs.

Franky squirmed in her chair, gripping her side. She didn't even want to know what that wound looked like now. Another wave of nausea hit and she leaned her head down on the table.

Vera burst through the processing room door and briskly lowered the blinds. "You know the drill, Doyle. Clothes."

Franky still had her head down. "I need medical…"

Vera spoke over her. "Clothes. Or do I need to get assistance?"

Franky understood the Governor's anger with her, but in her condition her old self flared up. "Anxious to rip my clothes off, are ya? Must have missed me."

She hated the low flirt in her voice. This wasn't her anymore. These fucking sterile rooms and cold concrete walls brought out the worst in her almost instantly.

Vera clicked her tongue impatiently. "Now, Doyle."

Her stubborn and continuous use of Franky's last name grated on her. You want to see what a picnic I've been having? Fine. She clenched her jaw and stood on shaking legs. She steadied herself against the table top, and then wriggled carefully out of the clean shirt Bridget had put on her after her transfusion. As she straightened up she took the edge of the bandage and pulled it free of her skin, fully exposing her grotesque stitched side to Vera.

The little woman's eyes widened in horror as she took in the terrible sight. She sucked in a breath. She let it out with a disbelieving and soft, "Jesus, Franky."

Franky closed her eyes and reached out for the table again. She felt cool, tiny hands against her bare skin as Vera rushed to her side and held her steady. "Sierra 6 this is Sierra 1, I need medical assistance in the processing room immediately!"

Franky was slipping into unconsciousness against the governor, and Vera struggled to get her back in her chair before she fell over. "Ok, Franky, it's ok."

Franky sat hard down into the chair and slumped over into Vera. "I'm sorry, Ms. Bennett," she said. "I'm so sorry."

Vera took Franky's shirt and helped her put it back on. She couldn't help but wince at all the scars on Franky's arms and torso. Knife wounds, shivs, burns...each leaving their own puckered red or white mark against the olive skin. And then there was the latest evidence, anxious to weave its memory into the tapestry of her painful past. A barely healed cut spanning the length of her collarbone...as if her attacker fought her to reach her throat. There were scrapes and large, darkened bruises everywhere. Vera tucked the shirt carefully over the last and most hideous wound. Honestly she was surprised Franky hadn't bled to death. She certainly looked like she'd come close to the edge. Vera knew about Bridget's nursing background. If Franky had come to her with this open wound, of course Bridget would help her. She wouldn't hesitate.

"Franky, what happened to you?" She whispered. She got no response. Just the frighteningly wide green stare of eyes trying to stay awake.

Vera suddenly felt regret at her hardness for Franky. She suddenly saw her differently than she'd ever seen her before. She finally saw what Bridget saw in her.

Vera put a supportive arm around Franky's shoulders while they both waited for help to arrive. Vera rolled the felon's recent activities through her mind. She'd escaped the prison, someone had hurt her and Bridget had fixed her. She'd found the culprit for the crime she'd been remanded for and got him to confess…all in a matter of days. Vera unconsciously brushed a strand of hair from Franky's smoothed forehead. She'd lost consciousness. Vera shook her head in utter disbelief. No, she'd never quite met someone like Franky Doyle.

…

Bridget's mouth dropped open. She stared at her lawyer in disbelief. "I'm to be what?"

Franky's old boss sat across from her and took her hand. "I know. I'm sorry. But Franky put you in a bind, coming to you. You said you fixed her up, with Daniel's help, and were with her for almost a day before you called it in. You…harbored a felon…even if it was a short while."

"We got a confession from the real killer!"

Judge Wrestler frowned at her. "That was a job for the police, Bridget."

"They'd stopped looking after they arrested Franky!" Bridget snapped, taking her hand away.

The judge frowned at her again. "Yes. Franky." She clicked her tongue in agitation. "That girl will be the death of me." She muttered. Then sympathy etched across her normally stern features. "This is complicated, Bridget. All three of you are in hot water. While the investigation is underway…both you and Franky will be remanded to Wentworth. Franky is already there. Daniel is being taken to Walford as we speak."

Bridget shook her head, refusing to believe what she was hearing. "I called you because you know us. You know both Franky and myself. You and I have been on the same side of the court room for many years. You can't believe I would..." Bridget couldn't finish. The shit liar was peeking behind her innocent façade. Thankfully the Judge interpreted her words the way she meant them to be. She suddenly felt sick, her stomach churning; boiling with the weight of her own actions.

The judge reached out and took Bridget's hand again, suddenly alarmed the woman across from her would feint. "Bridget, I'm not going to let either you or Franky drown. I promise I will do everything I can to assure your release." She sighed heavily. "I couldn't see a way to help her before," she said quietly. "Even when she begged me. I thought she was grasping at straws. All I saw was a woman desperate to be free."

Bridget wiped her eyes and looked away. "Franky has been seeking freedom all her life."


	33. Chapter 33

Franky woke up, and for an instant she was completely confused. This was not the bed that she shared with Bridget. She shifted and immediately frowned at her wrist, firmly cuffed to the side of the bed. Yes, she remembered now. Her stomach quickly rolled with the now familiar feeling of anxiety. She closed her eyes against it and when she opened them, it took a minute to focus.

Brilliant blue eyes were starting down at her. "Gidge?"

"What?"

Oh, fuck. It was Kaz. "Kaz? What are you doing here?"

Kaz smiled down at her. "Checking on you. Welcome back."

Franky sighed and tried to sit up, grateful for the powerful painkillers that must be coursing through her system. For the first time in days there was no pain. Kaz helped her by propping a pillow behind her back. It was awkward, as her left arm was in a sling.

Franky eyed it. "What happened to you?"

Kaz shrugged. "Accident in the brawler. No worries."

Franky blew out a breath. "No shit."

Kaz looked at her, curiosity and amusement crinkled her eyes. She seemed to always look at Franky this way. "I hear you've been through it too, hey? Had fun, did you?"

Franky didn't get a chance to answer her. Mr. Jackson had entered the room.

"Christ Franky!"

He came to Franky's bedside and to her great surprise asked Kaz softly, "are you ok?"

To her greater surprise, Kaz smiled at him and nodded. What now? ?

Mr. Jackson turned to Franky. She held out her cuffed wrist. "Is this really necessary?"

He blew out a breath and frowned at her. "Well you're a high risk, aren't you? Was it worth it?"

Franky could tell that he was frustrated with her. She had certainly put them through hell in the last few days. For the first time, she actually cared about the hundreds of hours they spent constantly watching, protecting and worrying about the ungrateful woman in their charge. She smiled apologetically at him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jackson," she said, and meant it.

He shook his head at her, and huffed a smile at her. "Well come on, up you come."

Franky lifted her eyebrows. "Already? I've been cleared?"

Mr. Jackson uncuffed her and helped her out of the bed. "Sort of. Just get dressed. The governor wants to see you."

…

"Bridget, please."

Vera stood with the other woman in the processing room. "You know how this works. I can get another officer if that would. ..make you feel better."

Bridget stood rigidly, fists clenched at her sides, refusing to look at Vera. "No."

Vera looked just as uncomfortable and unhappy. "It will be quick, I promise."

Bridget inadvertently took a step back. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears of humiliation. "No."

Vera sighed. This was arguably the worst few days of her life, and it only seemed to be getting worse. "Please, Bridget," she said softly.

Bridget crossed her arms tightly and shook her head, still refusing to look at the woman in front of her. She was borderline hyperventilating.

There was a knock on the door. Vera glanced at Bridget before opening the door and poking her head out. "Yes, good. Come in."

Bridget looked up. Vera had walked out of the room and closed the door behind her. Franky was leaning up against it.

They looked at each other for a moment in shock, misery and trepidation. They should not be able to count how many times they froze like this, staring at each other. Wondering...pleading…just how much could they take before the fragile hearts within their chests could stand no more? At what point would they be irreparable?

Franky looked away first. "Tell me...tell me you don't blame me..." Her voice cracked.

Bridget moved first and that was all it took. Franky collided with her, unable to resist her gravity. She never wanted to. Never again would she try to resist it. As she wrapped her arms around Bridget and felt her tremble, Franky felt tears in her eyes. She knew the reason for the vibrations. She soothingly rubbed her hands up and down Bridget's back.

"Shh, shh, shh. It's ok, Gidge."

Bridget held her tighter and tucked her head into the crook of Franky's shoulder. "It's not," she wept. "I'm here. ..in this room. ..Vera. .."

"You called Wrestler, right? There's no way we are staying in here long, Gidge. I swear it's almost over." Franky spoke to herself as well as Bridget. "She'll help. She will. We've got eveyrhing now to get me out of here for good. As for you..."

Franky squeezed her and pressed her face against Bridget's hair. "Your only crime was saving my life. Nothing will stick. Not with Daniel's...voluntary...confession."

Bridget was quiet, her trembling body still packed into Franky as close as she could get. Franky felt her own eyes sting again as the palpable waves of humiliation and fear reverberated around the room. She rocked Bridget and spoke softly; desperate to soothe her shattered nerves.

"I love you, Gidge. I love you. Do you hear me?"

Bridget nodded in her shoulder. Franky nuzzled the top of her head. "Bridget. .." Her voice was low, almost rough. She eased her rock into the cadence of a slow dance. "My Gidget…"

Bridget heard her tone and finally looked up. Franky grinned at her. Bridget shook her head. "You can't be serious."

Franky lowered her head and brushed her lips against Bridget's cheek. "Oh, I'm always serious when I think about you getting naked."

Bridget dipped her head and chuckled softly when Franky started kissing her neck, making her way to her lips. Franky's cheekiness fell away as soon as their lips touched. Bridget groaned into her mouth and Franky deepened the kiss, pulling Bridget firmly into her. She poured every ounce of strength she had into the woman melting against her. She didn't stop until Bridget ceased to tremble…with fear anyway…Franky grinned into her lips. She kept her own fear and panic out of her voice, feeling herself going into feirce protective mode. She would be fucking deadly while Bridget was under remand. Nobody would touch her.

"We got this," she murmured.


	34. Chapter 34

Both Bridget and Franky sat in the governor's office, watching in silence as she filled out the duel paperwork. Franky glanced at Bridget. She had zipped her jacket all the way to her chin and was clutching it tightly. Her hands were trembling. Lord knows what she was thinking. Franky couldn't help but curse herself again for offering Bridget a mess she couldn't refuse. She kept looking at her every now and then, bouncing her knee. She remembered her first strip search. She felt a flash of anger towards Vera. Bridget clearly wasn't smuggling anything into the prison. It hadn't been necessary to make her go through that fucking bit of protocol. There was really hardly anything more degrading than being strip searched…exposed, prodded…scrutinized. Forced to be fully agreeable to be fully vulnerable.

Vera put her pen down at last and cleared her throat. "Bridget, I want you to go into protection."

Franky looked quickly from Bridget to Vera. She hadn't even thought of that. Her anger fled. That was a bloody brilliant idea! Bridget would be safe. Franky was already nodding, but Bridget was shaking her head.

"No."

The other women looked at her. Bridget didn't look at either of them. Vera sighed. "You know I can't force you, but the investigation could take…a while. Remand times are dodgy, and that's on a good day."

Franky watched Bridget's jaw set. It was rapidly becoming too late to change her mind. "You'll be safe." She said quietly.

Bridget turned those impossible blue eyes on her. "You first." She said coolly.

Fuck. Well played, Gidge.

Franky didn't answer and Bridget chuffed at her. She knew Franky hated solitary more than anything, and how worse would it be knowing that she was in the cell right next to her lover? So close, yet separated by walls of stone with only a small grate to whisper through. And for how long? A week? A month? She watched Franky bounce her knee and chew her bottom lip. She finally looked at Vera.

"There is one cell left in H1, I believe. Will you place me there please?"

Vera frowned, clearly unhappy. She took a deep breath. She opened her mouth to argue but suddenly changed her mind, her emotion finally getting the better of her.

"Bridget, I'm afraid for you!" She blurted. "I don't want you around the other women. I don't want them to see you like this. ..a former employee now a remanded prisoner! Some of the women. ..would happily take advantage of that!"

Vera spoke all this quickly, pushing through her own insecurities and embarrassment. Franky was the one who answered her. "She won't be touched." Her tone was firm, confident. ..dangerous.

Vera frowned again. "And jumping to her rescue will only make you a target as well! You both need to lie low, and NOT do anything to jeopardize the conditions of your remand! And as for your relationship…"

Franky leaned over and reached for Bridget's hand. She cocked her head. "You mean the one we just started? Just now? While we are both at the same criminal level?"

She looked at Bridget with her lopsided grin. "What do you think, ya sexy minx? Go with me? I've had this HUGE crush on you for SO long. .."

A ghost of a smile flickered across Bridget's face. Little smartass. Vera looked from one to the other, exasperation and worry etched all over her face. "Franky this is serious! You of all people should know how dangerous these women can be…some more than others. I need you to take this seriously."

Franky's eyes darkened as she held onto Bridget's hand. She gave it a comforting squeeze. "I am. We are. Believe me."

Vera rubbed her temples. "Just promise me that you will keep your heads down. Promise me that when the time comes, BOTH of you will be able to walk out of here."

Franky nodded. "Yes governor."

"Bridget?"

Bridget met her eyes briefly and nodded. Vera hated herself in that moment. The woman across from her was her friend. She had always been her friend, even when Vera had accused her falsely, reported her and then sacked her…twice. ..Bridget had never failed to show her understanding and compassion and respect. She wished she had the authority to chuck them both into solitary… just, for once, to keep them safe. She desperately wanted them to be safe. Both of them.

But as she watched them holding hands, with Franky being both obnoxiously cheeky and stubborn and Bridget being rather shell shocked yet firm…she realized that they would rather be together in danger than safely apart. What Franky and Bridget had...this was no crush, no fleeting fling born from forbidden intimate contact. Their commitment to each other had reached an irreversible level of true love. Vera didn't understand this, having never experienced it herself, but she could respect them the most by honoring their request, as much as it pained her to do so.

"Ok." She said finally. She called to the officer outside her door to escort them to H1. As they both stood to leave, still holding hands, Vera suddenly hissed, "but I'm not giving you the teal."


	35. Chapter 35

It was late when Franky and Bridget were escorted into H1. Thankfully, lockdown had already commenced, and they met no one else in the echoing halls. Mr. Jackson unlocked the unit and nodded them inside. He gave Bridget a reassuring smile.

"It'll be ok." He said softly. "We'll be watching."

Bridget gave his arm a grateful squeeze and watched him drag the heavy door shut as he left. Its loud, metallic clanking fully solidified the realization of her imprisonment. She stared at the bars, a sob stuck in her throat.

Warm, strong arms reached around her and she let herself sag into Franky's chest. She leaned her head back against the support.

"I can't believe this is really happening."

Franky was quiet, simply holding her. Too many things were rattling around her thoughts. They both stood there and stared at the bars.

"Franky!"

Franky let go of Bridget and turned. Except when she was pissed, Liz had always been a light sleeper. She was standing in the doorway of her cell, and as she focused on the woman behind Franky, her mouth fell open. She took in the sight of Bridget holding a prison issued laundry basket.

"Ms. Westfall?"

Bridget took a breath and moved forward, putting her basket down on the table. Liz watched her, and then tilted her head towards Franky. Franky had known her long enough to know that look. She sighed. "I know. I fucked up."

"That seems to be a bit of an understatement, doesn't it?"

Franky opened her mouth but Liz turned away from her firmly, and walked over to Bridget. "I'll make us a cuppa, yeah?" She said kindly.

Bridget nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Franky moved to Allie's cell and opened the door. Liz frowned at her. "What are you doing?"

"Waking everyone up. Family meeting."

She disappeared into the darkened room, and in a moment she walked out, followed closely by Allie. As Franky slipped into Doreen's room, Allie took the seat opposite of Bridget. "Fuck." She said quietly, staring at the basket.

Doreen came out moments later. Her eyes widened. "Ms. Westfall?"

Bridget gave her a small smile. "Better start calling me Bridget, Doreen."

Doreen sat next to Allie. And took the tea Liz offered her. "This is bloody weird, isn't it? What happened?"

Bridget didn't answer, as all four of their heads whipped in the direction of Boomer's cell. There was a loud scuffle, and something heavy fell to the floor.

"For fuck's sake, Booms, it's only me!"

There was a slight pause. Boomer's sleepy voice reached their ears. "Franky?"

There was another scuffle, and something else fell to the floor.

"Yes, ya big dufus! Argh! Leave off!"

Franky's voice was indicative of a woman being squeezed too hard.

…

It was, to say at the least, awkward. Boomer had already offered Bridget her cell if she thought it would be more comfortable. Mostly they sat in stunned silence as Franky unfolded the abridged version of the last few days. She was pacing, unconsciously holding her side as the other women slouched over their steaming tea cups.

Franky stopped pacing. As the hours trickled closer towards the upcoming day, she began to regret her refusal of solitary. She hated that Bridget was being so quiet. She had to be mortified, and it was only going to get worse.

Allie spoke up first. "But you'll get off, right? Both of you?"

Franky leaned forward onto the table, at last pulling out the final chair. Without a word, Liz got up to make her a cup of tea. "Yeah, of course we will. But that's not what I'm worried about now, is it?"

Doreen rubbed her arm. "Kaz will protect you, yeah?"

Boomer scoffed. Franky only shook her head. "Kaz is in medical with a broken arm. Top dog's up for grabs."

Allie sucked in a breath. "Ferguson." She breathed. "She's already got the dealers and hop heads with her…"

Franky put the heel of her palm into her forehead. "Well that's just about fucking everyone."

Boomer nudged her. "You could be top dog, Franky."

"Booms, I can't! I told ya before."

"Well why not?" Boomer raised her voice. "Kaz isn't doing shit…she won't bash anyone!"

Franky leaned her head back. "Booms, the only people who'd back me are sitting at this table. No. We are laying low till our hearing, and then we are fucking blowing this place."

Boomer scooted her chair back, getting ready to stand. "Easy to leave us, is it?" Her hurt was making her angry. "Your getting good at leaving, aren't you?"

Franky grabbed her arm. "Boomer, I need you." She said quietly. Boomer was still, and Franky looked at her, all of them, with great intensity.

"I need you all." She nodded at Bridget, who's eyes bored into hers. "See that woman?"

All eyes turned towards Bridget. "She's with me. I…I love her and I can't let anything happen to her while we're in here."

Everyone except Allie looked stunned. They all spoke at once.

"You...and Ms. Westfall?"

"Oh, love…"

"You bloody dog, you, hey?"

Franky wasn't finished. She continued to look at Bridget. "That's not all. Before I got out. ..escaped…Ferguson threatened her through me. ..twice."

Bridget's eyebrows shot up. Franky gave her an apologetic look. "The first time was a physical threat. The second was psychological. She was fixating on you. That's why. ..that's why I tried to push you away."

Budget let out the breath she was holding. So that's what had rattled Franky to her core on that day. It hadn't been about her frustrations of losing her freedom, or about her stubbornness to go it alone. It had been about diverting a sociopath away from Bridget.

Bridget hadn't even realized that she was a target. She knew that she had established a good rapport with the women. That's why she refused solitary. To be with Franky, yes, but also because she had no need to be afraid of the women. She wasn't a screw, and had always been a reliable advocate. She hadn't for one moment really seen herself in danger. Ferguson was a formidable opponent for sure, but their interactions had been nothing more than mental jousting. It was annoying, yes, and exhausting…but not dangerous. Surely Ferguson had only threatened her to Franky to draw out Franky's infamous temper. ..to dig and pry open every possible tender point and worm her way inside. This was how she manipulated. This was how she destroyed.

But as she stared at Franky, she realized with a little twist of fear that Franky had used the term fixating…a term Bridget once used to explain to her how dangerous Ferguson actually was. Franky had scoffed at her then. She wasn't laughing now. Whatever Ferguson had said to Franky, whatever the whispered poison that dripped from her forked tongue, Franky had taken it seriously. Her sharpened mind pierced through the low, fragmented sentences laden with contempt and instantly calculated a course of action. Push Bridget out of harm's way. Escape. Clear her name. In that order.

But things hadn't gone quite as Franky had planned. She'd drawn Bridget back into it out of sheer desperation. And now they were BOTH here, lost within these hideous concrete walls, and trapped in close proximity to one of the most dangerous creatures Bridget had ever come across.


	36. Chapter 36

"It's not too late to go into protection." Franky murmured.

Bridget sighed. "You first." She said wearily. She couldn't remember a moment she felt so absolutely drained. Allie reached across the table and touched her forearm. "We'll stick by you. You'll be right."

The other women nodded. One by one they reassured Bridget before heading back to their cells. Franky took Liz's arm as she walked past, and the older woman smiled sadly at her. "You had no choice, love. I just hope it will be worth it."

When she left, and shut her cell door quietly, Franky sat alone with Bridget. The blond put her head down on the table. At long last she understood Franky's abject desperation…what motivated her to escape. She never felt so helpless in her life. All they could do was wait, and hope…and stay safe…

Franky stood and moved to her side. "Come on. Bed."

Bridget stood and Franky picked up her basket and led her onto the last empty cell in H1. She put the basket on the desk and turned to find Bridget leaning against the closed door. She hands were subconsciously clutching the neck of her jacket again. Franky looked away from her and began unpacking the basket. The last time they'd been alone in a cell together, Franky had crushed her into the wall and torn into her viciously. Even with the sweet lightness Bridget's forgiveness had offered her, Franky couldn't help but feel sick at what she'd done. Even if Bridget wasn't meaning to, she could tell the other woman was reliving that moment as well.

She emptied the basket and set it under the desk. Finally she turned to Bridget. "I'll let you get some rest." She said, and took a step towards the door.

Bridget remained where she was, blocking it. Franky shifted her weight from one foot to the next, uncertain. Bridget must have realized what her posture, clutching her jacket around her, was communicating. She let it go and unzipped it, draping it over the back of the chair.

Franky watched her move, inadvertently taking one step back. Being in this fucking cell, this fucking place…she felt that she'd never fully shake off the horrors that she'd seen and done. That she'd never truly be free of them. She looked away suddenly, her eyes stinging.

Bridget furrowed her brow as she watched the roller-coaster of emotions flash across Franky's face. She waited patiently for her to settle herself, but Franky seemed frozen in the past. Bridget glanced at the greyish blue stone walls and reached out to rub her hand across it, thinking. Remembering. As she felt the cool, pocked cement she turned her stare at Franky. The brunette was eyeing Bridget's hand, caressing the wall. She was remembering too. They both knew the unyielding wall kept the secrets of both the crushed and the crusher. The attacked and the attacker.

Bridget shook slightly at the sudden onslaught of memories…not just of in this cell, but of the roughness of the cheap rug as it cut into her back those years ago in college. This is what prison really was. It wasn't about the rules, the mind games from the other women, the routine; the loss of freedom. The real prison sentence was to be tortured every single quiet night under the glow of the yellow lights that never dimmed. Tortured by your own thoughts every single fucking night. There was no escaping the hellish silence. There was no release from the thoughts. The stone was a constant reminder, an endless jester casting your memories back at you as quickly as you tried to shed them.

Bridget dropped her hand. She studied Franky, and knew what she needed. Sleeping could wait. "Look at me." She said, her voice low.

Franky felt tears in her eyes. It took her a moment to drag her eyes from anywhere else but the woman in front of her. Finally green met blue…

Bridget slid across the door until her back was against the wall. She held out a hand, and after hesitating, Franky took it. Bridget pulled her close until Franky bumped into her. "Hold me against this wall."

Franky tried to back away, horrified, but Bridget suddenly grabbed her wrists and held them to her own shoulders. She pushed herself against the wall, and Franky fought to get away from her, a sob in her voice. "What the fuck, Gidge!"

Bridget grabbed her face. "Look at me!"

Franky looked. She sucked in a sharp breath. Of all the faces that made up the women she loved, it was this one she loved the most. Bridget, her mouth slightly open, her blue eyes dark, her breathing hitched... nothing was more beautiful than this woman when she was aroused.

Franky froze, the slow and inadvertent burn settling deep within her. "You got to be fucking kidding. .."

Bridget gripped the front of her shirt and pulled her roughly closer. "I want…I need…a new memory against this wall."

Her voice, her warmth pressed into Franky, was more than the brunette could stand. She grabbed Bridget's hands and pinned them over her head, pushing her once again into the wall. Her lips were inches away. "Gidge…"

Bridget leaned forward and pressed her lips into Franky's in a demanding kiss. Franky was rapidly losing it. If she didn't slow down her heart it would explode out of her chest.

Franky suddenly let go of Bridget's wrists and grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around and pressing her back into the wall. Bridget sucked in a breath and reached back, pulling Franky's hips into her rear. A low moan escaped her throat when Franky ripped her tucked shirt free and plunged her hands underneath it and up…up...until those fiery palms cupped her breasts. Franky squeezed her, hard, as she leaned against her, her lips on the move along Bridget's shoulder and neck. Bridget tilted her head and leaned her forehead into the wall, trying to bite back a moan.

Franky grinned into her neck and removed one of her endlessly moving hands away from Bridget's breast. She slid it back down, over her taut stomach, and underneath the waist band of her pants. When she found what she was looking for, Bridget bucked against her. ..this time not able to stop the low moan. Franky gently bit her earlobe. "Shh…" She laughed quietly. "Four pairs of ears are staining right now. .."

As Franky's fingers inched closer and closer to where Bridget radiated the most heat, the blond squirmed against her. Franky grinned again and let her go, turning her again and pinning her back against the wall. Bridget gasped when Franky slid her knee between her legs. She grabbed Franky's face. "Not yet, not yet. ..slow down!"

Franky pulled back slightly, and Bridget matched her step for step until she could push Franky down onto the bed. It was Bridget's turn to grin. She tugged Franky's pants down just enough. ..just enough to. ..

Franky threw her head back in a silent moan. She grabbed the blond hair and held on tight. She writhed under Bridget, trying to pull her up. There was no controlling her breathing. "But…I…want. ..you. ..now!"

Bridget ignored the delightful ache in her lower abdomen at those words and shook her head, holding Franky's hips steady. She paused for only a moment, grinning into the sensitive skin. "You first. .." she purred.


	37. Chapter 37

Franky was taking a nap. Bridget still didn't know how she'd convinced the nurse to put her in the clear, but Franky had worked her endless charm to remain in H1. To remain close to Bridget. The stipulation was plenty of rest. Franky was fine with that, finally allowing the days of being a fugitive catch up with her. She was exhausted. Bridget always lay with her until she fell asleep, promising not to leave the unit until she woke up, or unless Boomer was with her. Franky always seemed to declare she was buggered when everyone else was on work duty. Bridget caught on pretty quick that the brunette was loath to let her out of her sight.

Bridget sighed. Within twenty minutes, Franky was snoring gently, and Bridget untangled herself from the sleeping woman and quietly left her cell. As she roamed around the common room, she thought back to all the times Franky had complained of boredom.

I'm not surprised. Bridget had told her. Prison is a boring place.

She didn't know just how right she'd been, or how truthful Franky had been. There was literally nothing to do except walk in circles around the common area. Keeping a promise had never been this difficult.

Finally she went to the small kitchenette and made herself a cup of strong tea. She sat on the couch against the far wall, with a view of the entire unit, tucked her legs underneath her, and lost herself amongst her troubled thoughts.

"Ms. Westfall, you alright love?"

Bridget looked up, startled from her heavy thoughts. She shook her head and smiled.

"Just thinking, Liz. And I've told you before. ..call me Bridget."

Liz smiled back at her, remembering the gentle reprimand once before when she pestered Bridget to call her daughter. Liz made herself some tea and moved to the couch. She sat with the groan of a woman far older. Bridget watched her tug her crochet bag from underneath the couch and pull out her latest project. There was the smallest moment of awkward silence that Bridget refused to break. Liz glanced sideways at her while she cast onto her needle.

"If you don't mind me saying so, something seems to be on your mind."

Bridget let out a small laugh. "Somethings, you mean. God, it's all just rattling around up there endlessly."

Liz focused on her work for a moment, before saying casually, "Oh, aye. Being in here tends to make you think too much about things. Can make you go to some dark places if you're not careful."

Bridget sighed and absentmindedly fiddled with her tea cup. Her professional side arguing with her human side. It was harder than she thought to open up to an inmate, even one such as Liz. She sighed again and looked towards Franky's cell.

"I was just thinking of how I got to this point. Being in here and… being resigned to it and being terrified at the same time."

She was grateful that Liz wasn't looking at her.

"I've been in my field for twenty years and until I met Franky… I would have never dreamed of doing the things that I've done to get myself here."

Liz glanced at her and chuckled. "Franky does have a way about her, doesn't she?"

Bridget smiled back. Oh Liz, if you only knew. ..

"I guess love can make people do things they never would have done before."

Bridget looked at her quickly, flushed. Liz was squinting at her work and tugging out a stitch. Exactly how much could this woman see?

Liz looked up and saw Bridget's troubled face. She lay her needle down and reached over, squeezing Bridget's hand gently.

"Oh, love, anyone can see the way Franky looks at you and how in love with you she is." She appraised the woman next to her. "Your love is more discreet, but it's there." She smiled again. "You're also in here with her so that's something, hey? No one goes to prison for just anyone."

Bridget gave her a small smile, her eyes sparkled with sudden, unshed tears. She thought of all the mistakes she'd made up to this point. She set down her tea cup and rubbed her eyes.

"Maybe I should have stayed away from Franky. I should have tried harder to keep my distance. She certainly hasn't been the only inmate who's tried to gain my affections." She let out a groan, desperately unhappy. "If I'd maintained distance like I should have, maybe we wouldn't be in this mess."

Liz picked up her needle again and deftly began to work. She huffed at Bridget. "You'd be surprised at the messes that little mouse can get into…with or without our care."

She spoke from experience, and the tiniest bit of sorrow leaked from her voice. As Bridget watched her, she realized that Liz was probably the closest thing to a real mother that Franky had ever had. The two of them had been through quite a lot; had known each other for far longer than Bridget had been in the picture. She took a breath, casting aside her last reservations, and fully confided into a woman who arguably loved Franky as much as she did. ..whatever the level.

"But if I had stayed away from the beginning, then Franky wouldn't have to worry about protecting me! Had we not been together Franky would have been able to prove her innocence without worrying about my job or me…. She'd be free."

There it was. That huge and awful burden of guilt. Everything Franky had done, since the second time she was contacted by Mike, she'd done with Bridget in the forefront of her mind. If she hadn't been so concerned about Bridget, she may have gone to her parole officer right away for help. But she hadn't been able to, in fear of the discovery of her relationship with Bridget. In fear that Bridget would lose her job and her credibility as a prison psych. In truth, Franky has gone through almost impossible lengths just to protect her.

Bridget leaned her head back on the couch and stared at the ugly tiled ceiling. She'd never thought, until just now, that she was a selfish person. She'd always considered herself an attentive friend, a considerate lover, a compassionate human being…but never selfish. But as she thought back to the early days when Franky had begun to shamelessly flirt with her. ..that's when Bridget had become selfish. She didn't shut Franky down immediately and place firm and professional barriers in place. No, she had responded. She'd let the flattery of a crush get to her and she allowed herself to slip into it.

Even when she realized she was falling for Franky, and tried to pass her off to another psychologist, she still actively pursued moments with the inmate.

And then at her release. ..there Bridget was, fulfilling the picture Franky had painted her months before. She didn't take her to the bedsit. She'd taken her back to her house. She'd taken a recently released, vulnerable inmate back to her house and made immediate, hot and passionate love to her.

Bridget made a low, miserable noise in the back of her throat as she stared at the ceiling. Franky hadn't stood a chance after Bridget fell for her. So fucking selfish.

Liz had been quiet for a long time, content to sit next to Bridget and work on her crochet project. Once in a while she'd glance at the tormented face beside her. When Bridget groaned in the back of her throat, Liz put her needle down.

"I've known Franky for a long time." She started quietly. Bridget turned her head, still leaning back on the couch, and looked at her. Liz smiled kindly.

"And I don't know much, but I do know that if it hadn't been for you, Franky wouldn't have made it out of here alive. You gave her hope. You did that for her when no one else could." Liz paused and reached over to take Bridget's hand again.

"You showed her that she could trust someone to care for her. You believed in her. I knew something had changed in her, but I didn't know what it was. I was just glad…relieved…that she found it. Now I know that it was because of you." Liz squeezed her hand and chuckled, casting a fond glance at Franky's cell.

"And you can't take all the blame for your relationship, love. When Franky wants something bad enough she finds a way to get it. There's no stopping her once her mind is set."

Bridget laughed with her and wiped her eyes. She hadn't realized she'd been crying.

"I think in another life you would have made an excellent psychologist."

Liz huffed at her and picked up her needle again. "Well it would certainly pay better! What do you think?" She held up a half finished something. Bridget laughed again and smiled at her.

"I think it's beautiful." She fixed her eyes on the sweet elderly woman next to her.

"Thank you, Liz." She said softly.

Liz simply nodded and returned to her project. Bridget shook her head, utterly grateful, and got up. She padded quietly into Franky's cell and shut the door.


	38. Chapter 38

Once again the dining room hushed into a low murmur when H1 walked through the doors. Bridget kept her head up, as she'd done the previous time and the time before that. Surely the sight of her as an inmate would get old? As always, she made eye contact with anyone who would look at her. She met the wide and many pairs of eyes staring at her, reading the astonishment and curiosity easily. She even saw flickers of sympathy.

She would absolutely refuse to appear weak. These next few days as she established herself into the system would be pivotal to her survival. She'd spent the last twenty years counseling inmates through their most vicious first-week-in-prison memories.

Bridget had a natural, confident pose, and an equally natural calming demeanor. As she picked up a tray she thought back to the hurried conversation she'd had with the other women in H1 before breakfast yesterday.

"They already respect you." Franky had said. "You can't for one moment show them if you are afraid."

Liz nodded. "Definitely keep your head up. You are still a bit. ..authority…yeah?"

Allie cut in too. "To us, you are still Ms. Westfall. With any luck, that's how the women will see you as well."

Boomer had simply cracked her knuckles, earning a grin from Franky.

Bridget had secretly been grateful by the way the women of H1 fairly surrounded her as she moved through the halls. She wasn't sure if it was a testimony to the love they had for Franky, or the respect they had for her. Either way, she felt a certain sense of relief with this odd little group walking close to her.

Bridget looked at the food before her. She wasn't hungry for whatever it was steaming behind the glass. It was unrecognizable slop. Franky leaned in and pulled a disgusting scoop of brown out from under the glass and plopped it onto Bridget's tray.

"Eat up Gidge. The glory of processed food!"

Bridget couldn't help but make a face, and murmured quietly under her breath. Franky grinned as she heard what definitely sounded something like 'fucking floppy'.

Bridget eyed Boomer and the other women, loading their trays. From the looks on their faces, they'd become all too accustom to what they were being served. Lord, no wonder prison moral was so horrible! Not even your digestive tract was safe!

Bridget took a piece of toast and moved out of line. She turned for Franky but the brunette was already beside her. "Over there," she quietly instructed. The other women were right behind her and together they took one of the last empty tables. Bridget noticed Franky barely nod to Kaz as she sat. Kaz nodded in return.

Bridget smiled to herself. Her lover was brilliant. That one little nod communicated everything. I'll take care of my unit. I'm with you. I won't be trouble. The other women at the table didn't notice the exchange, already conversing good naturedly amongst themselves. The psychologist in Bridget was naturally intrigued. This is what separated the leaders from the followers. The almost imperceptible nuances that flashed between those that got it, all the while being missed by those that did not. Bridget couldn't help but be fascinated.

She saw Franky watching her. The brunette winked. "Learning things, Gidge?" She whispered.

Bridget tipped her a smile and poked at her food. She tried to focus on the conversions of the women around her, but even though she nodded and smiled at all the right times, her mind couldn't help but wander.

As she had lain curled up against Franky the night before, loving the strong arms holding her tightly, she had thought about all the mind games prison women seemed drawn to. It was as if stepping into this world sucked you into a dark realm that no one but inmates could see.

Bridget certainly hadn't noticed it fully before. Yes, she was aware of the psychology of prison life, but after a full day on remand it was if a veil had been lifted. She was no longer on the proverbial outside, roaming freely and immersed in a constant state of study. She was now literally on the inside and the shift in mood towards her from the other inmates was palpable. She was now…to put it in frighteningly real terms…fair game.

The fear she kept waiting for to settle into her chest hadn't fully manifested. There was worry, anxiety even…but not the terror she'd expected. She realized that she had an advantage that none of these women had upon incarceration. She knew them. Most of them, anyway. And she fully intended to use her previous relationships with the other women to her advantage. She would never break a confidence, but almost every woman in this prison had needed her support and reference at one point in time. There was no denying the value in that.

As she scanned the dining room, her expression remained neutral. No, she was not afraid. Franky had told her this morning, while they readied themselves for breakfast, to hold herself exactly like Ms. Westfall would. In doing so would give her the confidence she desperately needed while moving among the crowds of unpredictable teal.

The dining room doors suddenly opened, and C4 walked in, for some reason replacing H3. Bridget frowned. She knew every single women in C4.

Boomer looked up. "What are they doing here?" She asked loudly.

Bridget felt the temperature drop in the room at Boomer's unwelcoming shout. She looked at Franky, who was refusing to look up. She casually continued to eat, seemingly unconcerned at the dangerous shift in the room. Bridget watched her. She noticed that Franky's knuckles were white, she was gripping her fork that hard. She knew everyone who belonged in C4 as well. It was rather fucking ironic, the woman and the name of the block she'd been placed.

Bridget searched the faces that sauntered into the room. Her eyes finally found the dark stare she'd instinctively felt when they first walked in. Ferguson could barely contain the look of triumph on her face. She was surrounded by a motley crew of dealers and addicts, and Bridget felt a knot in her stomach when Ferguson turned from her and spoke quietly to the women at her table.

Franky kept her head down, yet still somehow saw everything. "Don't look, Gidge. It's ok."

But it was too late. Bridget had seen the blatant delight in Ferguson's evil stare. She'd seen what had terrified Franky those weeks ago. As she turned back to poke at her food she felt her confidence flee. Fear happily replaced it. Franky bumped her foot under the table encouragingly but when Bridget looked into those beloved green eyes her heart sank. As good as Franky was at masking her emotion, even she couldn't hide the anxiety from flashing across her face. At last she glanced at Ferguson, who was still in whispered communication with her table of followers.

Franky gripped her fork painfully tightly and looked at Kaz. Her expression hardened. Kaz hadn't moved. She wouldn't be top dog for much longer. Ferguson it seemed, was no longer a ghost.


	39. Chapter 39

Franky was sleeping again. Bridget had fought with her this time, and it was getting harder and harder to convince Franky that she needed the rest. She was anxious to move around, talk to the other girls, prepare for her upcoming court date…she had an endless list of reasons NOT to be sleeping during the day.

"Gah! I'm not tired, Gidge! I'm fine! See? Look!" She had pulled up her tank so Bridget could see her side. The stitches had been removed and she was healing rather nicely. Bridget put her hands on her arms and gently pushed her towards the bed.

"One more day." She'd said. "The nurse said a week. When you wake up we'll go to the library, yeah?"

Franky had inverted Bridget's grip and pulled her close. "I don't wanna sleep," she'd purred. "I wanna play…" She'd smiled into Bridget's cheek. "Dance with me…"

Bridget had sighed. She'd allowed Franky to move against her provocatively, until her back was against the wall. If she was honest with herself, there were things she'd rather do as well, instead of sitting bored out of her mind in the common area while Franky slept.

Franky had leaned down and kissed her throat, just below her jaw line. Her hands were beginning that delightful exploration she never grew tired of. Her hips swayed as she bumped into Bridget. Bridget could tell that Franky was not going to be deterred easily. The stubborn brunette always seemed to get her way. Bridget's mind wandered as Franky moved over her body, thinking of ways to convince her to stay put for one more day. It seemed foolish, as Franky was clearly ready to move.

Bridget had gasped sharply when Franky nipped her neck. The brunette grinned into her skin. "Stop thinking of ways to keep me here one more day."

Bridget had huffed at her indignantly and opened her mouth. Franky covered it immediately with her own. "Shit liar…" she laughed, between kisses. "Come on, Gidge. The only way I'm gonna be able to sleep is if I'm worn out." She'd brushed her cheek against Bridget's and bit her earlobe. "So wear me out…"

A slow smile spread across Bridget's face. Franky didn't know everything about her. Not yet anyway. She was about to learn something new.

…

Bridget smiled down at her softly snoring lover. Franky had almost passed out from what Bridget had done to her…multiple times. She was just able to gasp out a shaky 'holy fuck' before she dropped into a sated consciousness. Sleep was almost immediate. Bridget's smile became a satisfied smirk as she licked her fingers slowly and then went to the small sink to wash up. Franky may or may not challenge her again anytime soon.

Bridget sat on the couch with her feet tucked up and a cup of tea balanced on her side. She was reading Franky's favorite law book, trying to catch up with the other woman's keen mind for all things law. They were both going to need every ounce of intellect between them.

She was startled from her reading when Juice and four of her hulking followers entered the unit. As Juice passed Franky's cell she peeked in the window of the closed door and smirked. "Would you look at sleeping beauty in there!" Her gleeful voice was quiet. Whatever her purpose here was, it wasn't to wake Franky.

Bridget put down her book and tea cup and stood automatically. She masked the sudden pounding in her chest as her brain triggered her fight or flight response. She kept her voice as calm as she could. She'd read this woman's file…every horrifying bit. Her breath caught in her throat as, for a split second, she thought of calling for Franky. The brunette would kill herself beating these women to death.

But no. Whatever this was, she could handle it. "Hello, Lucy." Her tone was pleasant. "What can I do for you?"

She regretted her question the moment it left her lips. Not good phrasing at all. Juice regarded her up and down with a smirk and the large women behind her laughed openly. She watched helplessly as they slowly fanned out around her. Juice stepped closer. "The boys and I just came to deliver a message to you…but as long as you're offering…" She stepped even closer and the other women moved in.

Bridget knew she didn't stand a chance. She wasn't a fighter even on her best day. Her body betrayed her every single time it felt threatened, and she was cursed with weakened, fear induced limbs. Her brain screamed at her to struggle as they grabbed her. But she didn't fight them. The woman holding her was twice her size and held her tightly around her middle, pinning her arms. She lifted her chin defiantly and breathed through her nose as Juice appraised her. Her smirk had faded slightly. Her and her crew fed off of and were aroused by the fight…the panic. Freezing blue stares had the opposite effect. She nodded to the boys and stepped closer to Bridget…inches away. The other women reached out and Bridget could feel their intrusive hands touching her, rubbing her; squeezing her. She refused to look at them, instead, setting her jaw and holding eye contact with Juice. Juice blew her foul breath in Bridget's face as she tried one last time to illicit a response from the captured blond. "Just a taste…" she whispered.

Bridget's flesh crawled at the hands moving over her, violating her in every way. She could see right through the woman standing in front of her, waiting on bated breath for Bridget's reaction to what was being done to her. But Bridget just clenched her jaw, and bore her severe blue eyes into Juice. Her tone was cold. "What was the message?"

Juice stepped back and grunted, disappointed. At a nod from her the women stepped back and the woman holding Bridget let her go. There was more satisfying prey in the prison, anyway. Bridget fought the urge to flee. Instead she calmly smoothed down her ruffled blouse and forced the bile rising in her throat to remain where it was. Juice and her crew turned and walked out of the unit, the grotesque woman calling over her shoulder, "Ferguson wants to see you. Don't tell Franky."

With that they were gone. Bridget fled into Franky's cell and leaned heavily against the door. As her body finally began to feel what her mind had rejected for the last few minutes, she started to shake uncontrollably. She barely made it to Franky's bed before she collapsed. Shock was setting in quickly and tears blurred her vision. She couldn't breathe. She desperately reached out one hand and grabbed Franky's shoulder. "F…F…Franky!" She finally choked out.

Franky's eyes flew open when she was grabbed, the inmate in her ready. She started at the terrified mess by her side and without hesitation threw her arms around Bridget and pulled her into the bed, wrapping her whole body around her. She reached down and grabbed the quilt from the bottom of the bed and even though their combined heat was burning her up she covered them both completely and tucked into the quivering body next to her. As she held Bridget through her wracking sobs and rocked her under the safe darkness of the quilt, she spoke soothing words into her ear. She felt her own heart pounding out of her chest as she breathed in the wrong scent that lingered on her love.

There was only one Hep-C infected cunt who stunk like that.


	40. Chapter 40

It took a long while for Bridget to come back. Franky held her carefully and seethed. She still didn't know what had happened to the woman shivering in her embrace. There was no blood, no torn clothing. ..but none of that really mattered. That filthy bitch had somehow hurt her love, and she'd done it right outside her fucking door while she was sleeping. Fuck!

Juice and her gang of fucking inbreeds were dead. That much was clear. As Franky gently rocked the stricken woman she glanced at the small clock in her cell. The other women would be coming back from work duty any moment. She needed Boomer. She needed a shiv. If she couldn't find one she'd happily tear Juice apart with her bare hands.

Bridget slowly was unfurling herself. She was burning up under the blanket and Franky finally shoved it off of them and they both sighed as cooler air hit their heated skin.

"What do you need?" Franky whispered gently.

"A bottle of wine."

Franky smiled into her hair and kissed her forehead. Bridget snuggled in closer. "Just hold me."

She rolled over and Franky threw an arm around her, pulling her little spoon close. "Gidge…"

Bridget wiped either sweat or tears from her face. "They didn't. ..she didn't. ..they just scared me, is all."

Franky was having a hard time holding her lover gently with so much anger coursing through her body. She had to constantly remind herself not to squeeze Bridget too hard. "I can see that. What happened?"

Bridget heard the dangerous tone. She turned her head to look at Franky. Her green eyes were stormy. "No." She said firmly.

Franky couldn't be still anymore. She let go of Bridget and got out of the bed. She paced and shook her hands, trying to calm her enraged heart. Old Franky had come a-knocking, and she had one hand on the knob to let the monster in. ..and out.

Bridget sat up. "Juice and her. ..crew. ..came to tell me that Ferguson wanted to talk to me. They warned me not to tell you."

Franky stored that in her mind and pushed forward. "That's all they wanted, was it?"

Bridget got out of the bed and once again smoothed out her blouse. She felt her heart beating more calmly. Her hands had stopped shaking. She took a deep breath. "I know how to deal with women like them."

Franky narrowed her eyes. "Obviously."

Bridget shot her a look. "I meant I know how to deter them in the moment. I came to you when they had gone." She looked away, suddenly feeling ashamed.

Franky closed the gap between them immediately. "No. You're alright. I'm sorry." She leaned back and looked down at Bridget. "You did good. God, you did good. I've never known them to…stop."

Bridget pulled away and went to the little sink to splash cool water on her face. "They are bullies," she said, reaching for the towel Franky handed her. "And they get off on the violence. I didn't fight them."

Franky blew out a breath, for once grateful that Bridget simply wasn't a fighter. She had a different way of facing opponents. Her brilliant mind could outwit almost anyone…especially minds as basic as Juice and her crew. But if it got physical, her gentle soul would shut down.

It had taken months of being together for Franky to get Bridget to tussle with her. Franky's naturally playful nature couldn't help but gravitate towards a good wrestle…especially in bed. The first time she got a bit rough with Bridget, the other woman froze beneath her. Instead of the playful response she was expecting, Franky had looked down into suddenly terrified eyes.

That was the night that Bridget confided in her the hellish experience she'd had in college. Franky was horrified. She had been a fighter all her life. It was hard for her to comprehend a scenario where her body failed her.

It was also hard to stave off her tendency to get rough. Bridget was so deliciously pouncable! As the bond between them grew, and Bridget's trust in her expanded, Franky began to delight her with her playful side. She never hurt the older woman, and gradually Bridget learned how to fight back…or a least squirm a little as she giggled.

Franky's most favorite memory with Bridget was the night the blond suddenly tackled her. Franky was standing by the bed, removing her rings, when Bridget hit her like a line backer. Franky instinctively rolled with her to get the upper hand, but realized what Bridget was doing a split second later. She never once regretted throwing that particular fight.

But that was months upon months of communication, building trust and committing to a deeper love. Prison was none of those things. Prison was the endless loop of a hideous attack as a junior in college. Franky was in a constant state of worry because of this. She knew how vicious prison could be. She blew out a breath.

"I just hate that they frightened you. I hate that I was right here and didn't know. I didn't know!"

Bridget nodded and buried her face in Franky's chest. "No more naps."

Franky laughed once. "No more fucking naps," she agreed.

There was a commotion outside her cell as the other women came back from work duty. Franky let go of Bridget and met them as they entered the unit.

"Booms, walk with me."

Bridget grabbed her arm. "Franky!" She warned.

Franky shook her off gently. "Relax. I'm just going to talk to Kaz." She said calmly. She eyed Allie, Liz and Doreen. "Stay with her, yeah? We'll be right back."

Allie stepped forward. "Franky, what happened?"

But Franky ignored her and left the unit. When they passed the hall leading to Kaz's cell block, Boomer frowned. "We aren't really going to see Kaz, are we?"

"No, Booms."

Boomer put an excited skip in her step. She recognized this Franky. She reached into her pocket and handed Franky something. Franky looked down at the small shiv. That would do.

Franky could barely contain the monster within. An animal, Ferguson had called it. She didn't know how wrong she was. An animal suggested instinctual reactions to situations it was forced to handle.

But what was inside Franky was not instinctual. It was a calculated horror that she'd learned to control. And right now, as her hand clenched firmly around the shiv in her pocket, she was tapping into that very dangerous part of her.

Another part of her mind cautioned her. You are lying to Bridget. It said. This isn't you anymore. This is NOT laying low.

But Franky pushed those thoughts out of her head as both she Boomer stepped into the common area of C4. Ferguson was sitting at the table watching the other women play cards. Juice had been leaning against the wall, and as Franky strode up to her she straightened up. "I was only the messenger. .." She began.

Franky grabbed the front of her sweatshirt and before anyone could stop her she slammed the shiv into Juice's meaty upper arm. The fat pig was lucky she was a reformed woman, as she desperately wanted to bury the shiv in the other woman's throat.

Juice hollered and three of the five card players leapt from the table and came forward. So did Boomer. The scuffle was brief. For all her soft bulk, Boomer was a force to be reckoned with, especially if she was watching Franky's back. It wasn't long before the other women decided they'd rather not be in C4 at the moment.

Franky pushed Juice away contemptuously. Without looking back she walked up to the table. Boomer was right at her heels and with one menacing jerk of her head, the last two card players scattered like mice. Ferguson sat alone at the empty table.

Franky pulled out a chair and sat across from Ferguson, crossing her arms and showing her teeth. She looked around the now empty unit in mock concern. "Well they're quite loyal to you, aren't they?"

Ferguson had watched with little interest as the women in C4 disappeared. Juice had scurried away in the direction of the infirmary. She turned her expressionless black stare at Franky.

"I believe it was Ms. Westfall that I was…keen to speak to."

"So speak."

Franky froze at the cold voice behind her. She didn't need Boomer's muttered 'oh shit' to know who was standing over her shoulder. Ferguson smiled, unable to hide the shadow of surprise on her face.

"Ms. Westfall! How delightful!"

Bridget stood beside Franky but didn't look at her. Franky could feel the waves of anger radiating from her. Oh shit.

Bridget tilted her head at Ferguson, waiting. She was just shy of tapping her foot with impatient irritation.

Franky watched the formidable woman in front of her gather her thoughts. She'd expected Franky. She'd wanted Franky. That was the game of cat and mouse she loved so much. Her sick victory over watching Franky lose her cool was short lived. She clearly hadn't anticipated Bridget to follow her. She finally opened her mouth to speak but Bridget cut her off.

"Never mind. I could give a fuck what you wanted to talk about." She turned smartly on her heel and headed for the hall. Franky grinned at Ferguson's expression and winked at her before scraping away from the table to follow Bridget. As Boomer fell in line with them, Bridget turned one last time towards Ferguson.

"And Joan," she narrowed her eyes. "The next time you wish to speak to me, try coming to H2 yourself."

Ferguson raised one eyebrow and nodded. "Noted."

Franky couldn’t help but feel a sudden wave of fear. Because of her, Bridget had just solidified an enemy. From Ferguson's darkening expression she could see that the word 'toying' wasn’t what the evil woman had in mind anymore. Shit just got real.

Bridget had turned once again and stalked out. As they made their way in silence back to H2, Franky kept glancing at Bridget. Her posture was rigid with fury. This wasn't going bode well when they were once again safe in their unit.

Franky had only partially regretted her actions at first, but the further they got from C4, the more complete her regret became. The monster had fled, leaving her once again alone to face the repercussions of her damn impulsiveness. The lying. The violence. How the fuck could she ever expect to get out of here if she kept shiving people? If she kept reacting instead of thinking? Fucking hell Franky! She groaned internally at the frigid back in front of her. Bridget hadn't even looked at her yet.

A large hand bumped hers as they walked, and she felt Boomer take her pinky in solidarity. Franky didn't look at her friend, but she squeezed her pinky gratefully. With her stomach in knots she walked with increasingly heavy steps, anticipating the shit storm once they arrived back in H2.


	41. Chapter 41

Franky scowled at the women waiting for them back in H2. Allie quickly raised her hands and Doreen was apologetic. "We tried to stop her, Franky!"

Liz barely looked up from her crocheting. "I didn't." She said matter of factly. "Better get rid of that, hey?"

She nodded to Franky's shirt. Juice's blood was on her chest. Franky cursed and went into her cell, removing the offending article in one fluid motion. If she wasn't more careful, she'd run out of civilian clothing.

As she was rummaging for another shirt, she thought fleetingly of Vera. The damn governor had kept her promise…refusing to give them the teal.

Her cell door slammed behind her. Franky whirled around, holding a clean shirt. Bridget was standing there, and Franky took a minute step back against the blast of anger. Bridget reached out and ripped the shirt out of Franky's hands and threw something at her face. Franky caught it, surprised. It was a teal tank.

"There!" Bridget snarled at her. "You are so determined to stay here you can borrow Allie's!"

She took a step closer, and there was nothing minute about the step Franky took back this time. Bridget continued to shout. "She's in here for eight years! She won't mind you wearing that until you tell Vera you want your own uniform!"

Franky's hackles rose slightly. There was a certain justification in what she'd done. It was prison justice, but that's how she knew this place to work. Bridget still didn't understand the complex dynamics of the world she'd been remanded to.

Franky tossed the tank back to Bridget and stood there defiantly in her bra. "I don't want the teal!"

Bridget scoffed at her. "Then what, you wanted revenge? My great protector, lying to me and then coming to my rescue? Is that what you think I wanted, or was that what YOU wanted?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Franky raised her voice as well. "I WAS trying to protect ya! That's what you have to do in here, Gidge! Juice had to know she couldn't touch you like that! That no one can just attack you! Ever! That's how this fucking place works!"

Bridget suddenly came forward and pressed something cool against Franky's bare stomach. She looked down and sucked in a surprised breath. Bridget had pushed Franky against the wall and held the shiv against her skin.

"Jesus!"

"So this is what you do? Huh?Come on, Franky, you're the fucking prison expert! I'm supposed to stab someone who attacks me?" She pressed the shiv into Franky and the brunette wasn't certain if she felt blood. She blew out shallow breaths and pressed herself into the wall.

Bridget looked up at her with furious eyes. "What Juice did was no more than what you've done to me. So tell me, Baby, tell me why I shouldn't gut you right here with this fucking knife?"

Franky let out another quick breath. There was a wounded cry behind it this one. She couldn't answer. That last question had been cruel, and her Gidge wasn't cruel. It seemed like Franky wasn't the only one battling the demons prison life released. She choked on any response that might have come. Her eyes stung and she looked away. Anywhere but the deep blue fury blasting at her.

Bridget pressed the shiv into Franky, forcing the other woman to look at her. "You decide." She growled through clenched teeth. "You decide right fucking now who you wish to be! Do you want to be a prisoner? Or do you want to be free? Because you can't have then both!

"I wish you be with you." Franky said softly. She felt herself completely deflate. This was all she had. She'd been a prisoner all her life. ..until she met Bridget.

Bridget shook her head fiercely. "That's NOT good enough!" She shouted. Franky had to suck in her stomach at the sudden sting against her skin. Bridget had cut her. Bridget looked down at the thin line of blood she'd created on that beautiful olive skin and stepped back, dropping the shiv with a tiny clink onto the floor. She put her hand to her mouth and sobbed into it, horrified. When she looked up at Franky again there were tears in her eyes. Desperate, terrified tears.

"We are more," she choked out, "oh god, we are more than what we've become!"

She backed away from Franky and sat hard on her bed and wept into her hands. Franky stood against the cool wall, not daring to move. She felt a hot trickle of blood on her stomach. More than what we've become. She had a feeling that phrase had permanently burned itself into her memory.

Finally, carefully, she knelt down in front of Bridget. When she tentatively reached for her hands she half expected the other woman to jerk away. She didn't.

"You're right, Gidge. You're right." She said quietly.

"Choose." Came the softer reply.

Franky leaned forward and pressed her forehead into Bridget's. She knew what was being asked of her. She knew it wasn't something that Bridget needed to hear…it was something Franky finally needed to believe…and to want...for herself.

That she was stronger than the monster within her. That she was good and worthy. That she could shed the wretched skin of her old self and cast it into the flames and watch it burn. That she deserved to be loved completely. That she could be the woman who helped, not hurt. That she could be brave, but not violent. That she could defend, but not destroy. That she deserved to be forever apart from the clutches of concrete and teal.

Franky reached for Bridget's face and lovingly stroked her tear stained cheeks. Bridget met her eyes and her expression begged Franky to understand. Begged her to choose wisely. Her question came out in a shuddering breath.

"Who, Franky? Who will you choose to be?"

Franky stroked her thumbs gently along Bridget's cheeks. She smiled, at long last understanding the fullness of the word glaring in the forefront of her mind.

"Free."


	42. Chapter 42

Ferguson was fuming. Not that you could tell by her blank expression. ..but the rage was there, simmering just barely beneath the surface. She had been utterly humiliated by a tiny toy of a woman in heels. It had been Doyle . ..always Doyle…that captivated her so. She was incapable of forgetting a single slight the arrogant woman had thrown her way.

She'd sent Juice and her deplorable gang to H1 simply to entice Doyle to prove once again that Ferguson will forever be right about her. It was prideful, maybe, but the scrawny brunette had a delightful wit and an abhorrently cocky demeanor…so to see her back behind bars…again. ..it was almost impossible to stay away. But that wasn't it really. Nothing was impossible to Ferguson…it was just too…fun.

Ferguson had laid aside her other plans for the moment. They were complex and thrilling to say the least. Vera was not long for her governorship and Jake would step up. Eventually. Her move for top dog was sliding smoothly along, Jake would be the number one choice to replace Vera, and her little puppy would have to do everything her brilliant mind could come up with. And he was utterly disposable. She would eventually embody who she saw in the mirror. ..the same imposing governor she'd always been. Soon.

But there was some. ..unfinished business she had to tinker with first. There was something that simply…appealed her about Doyle. Her raw, unchecked power, her effortless command of the other women. Ferguson didn't know whether she wanted to fuck her or fight her…all she knew was that the brunette would go down screaming. Oh she would scream!

Ferguson certainly didn't put Doyle in the same category as Smith. No, Smith was cunning and. ..a lady. Ferguson had treated her as such. But Doyle…Doyle was simply magnetic, and had to be destroyed. Ferguson idly played with her tea cup, remembering the first time she'd seen Doyle fully and gloriously exposed before her.

That lumbering idiot Fletcher had caught her…with her pants down, and Ferguson had been all too keen to slot her. She'd stalked her like prey as she donned the black gloves.

Ferguson allowed herself a smile. Vera had been so weak, so easily frightened. She put up no fight when Ferguson commanded her to leave them alone in the slot.

She remembered the…was it fear? Look that Doyle had given the little deputy. The. ..helplessness…just an inmate completely at Ferguson's mercy.

Off they come. She'd said with a smile. The visual inspection was routine of course, but as Ferguson drew closer, Doyle had backed away. Yes, it was fear…and a delicious helplessness.

Ferguson smiled again as she sipped her tea. Doyle had stubbornly clenched her jaw when Ferguson had entered her, refusing to turn her fiery green eyes away. She was tight, unwilling, and Ferguson had placed one gloved hand on her shoulder, pushed her against the wall, and shoved.

Doyle had sucked in a breath, but that was the only unguarded moment she gave. Freak, she'd whispered. Ferguson had only smiled at her. When she was done she knew her plan was unfolding nicely. Doyle had swallowed the drugs, Will Jackson was on his way for revenge, and either Doyle would die right there in front of the parole board, or Jackson would unknowingly rough her up to the point of the little ticking time bombs erupting forcefully. Either way, Ferguson would be her last fuck.

But it had gone all wrong. That thorn, the Ms. Westfall, had been at the parole hearing. A muscle in Ferguson's jaw jumped in seeing her, but she refused to give her the satisfaction of acknowledgment. She did, however, see Doyle go from helpless and hopeless to suddenly confident. As much as the heroine in her gut was slowly killing her, she'd found the strength in front of Ms. Westfall to crush her hearing. Ferguson's only chance was that Mr. Jackson would catch her on her way to medical.

But again, it all went wrong. And Doyle was released. It made Ferguson sick to her stomach as she was forced to sign the documents. Failure was simply not in her nature.

But oh, oh! There she was. ..again. In the teal. Helpless, hopeless. ..the caged animal Ferguson had always seen in her. Her mind began to boil immediately. Her exposure of her relationship with Ms. Westfall. Her taunts.

But there was something about Doyle she couldn't place. There was a confidence. ..she was. ..happy. Or she had been. That delightful body might be in this prison but her mind was elsewhere. And then with no warning, she'd fled. ..she escaped!

Ferguson frowned into her now empty tea cup. There was more to Doyle than she'd expected. There wasn't as much animal instinct as there was. ..a likeness in mind between them. She'd. ..underestimated her. A rare error indeed.

When she'd returned, she was elated. It would only be a matter of time before her name was cleared, but only this time, she wasn't alone in her incarceration. Ms. Westfall was with her, in every sense of the term. The moment Ferguson had first laid eyes on Mr. Westfall in the dining area, protectively surrounded by the ridiculous H1 mob, Ferguson had altered her web of intrigue surrounding the governorship since Doyle's parole. Life so rarely offered duplicate opportunities! The gold crown could wait. Some things just had to come first.

Ferguson pulled her ponytail around her shoulder absentmindedly, thinking. There was a delicate balance between one inmate and the next. Everyone carefully carried nitro glycerin chips on their shoulders, and explosions, always predictable, must be fanned in the proper direction to yield the most satisfying results. In Ferguson's favor, of course.

Her brilliant mind had realized that trying to pull them apart had only made them stronger. She should have know that their disgusting and blatant affections for each other would overcome simple baseless threats. Every success that Doyle had was because of Ms. Westfall. All of her joy, confidence, and unending arrogance was due to that impossibly fragile and weak emotion...love. She must be more ruthless! As she stood from the table she understood that she had been playing with the wrong prey. Her inherent desire to illicit destruction upon Doyle for all her meddling had clouded her naturally cunning introspective. Doyle was no longer the target, and if she played her cards right, and she would, she could kill two baby birds with just one stone.

Ferguson allowed herself the smallest of smiles as she methodically cleaned her tea cup. Her blackened stare was not focused on the task before her, but rather on the fluidly and expertly calculated plan that was unfolding in her mind.

Oh Ms. Westfall, let the games begin…


	43. Chapter 43

They had gone over the same story multiple times. Mrs. Wrestler sighed. She looked stern, but there was also a fondness in her expression for the two women sitting across from her. This was going to be spectacularly difficult. It was by far the most bizarre case she'd ever fought to receive. She focused on Franky first.

"Well you've gotten yourself into it, haven't you?"

Franky had the decency to look sheepish. Mrs. Wrestler folded her hands. "The good news, Franky, is that Daniel is firmly sticking to your story. You found him in Mike's house, you fought with him, and he stabbed you before he recognized you. He brought you to Bridget, confessed, and together you all agreed to turn yourselves in."

She frowned. "If it were that simple, you'd all be home tomorrow. The bad news is there is a whole lot of time between when you arrived at Bridget's house, and when you actually called the police. Six hours, to be exact."

Franky shrugged. "We were talking. Took a while."

"Do you usually talk to sleeping men?"

Franky eyebrows shot up and Bridget squirmed. Mrs. Wrestler looked at her. "Yes, the phone. There is a detailed confession on it, but there are other things as well."

Franky looked at Bridget, a question on her lips. Bridget closed her eyes briefly. The photos. "When Daniel brought me Franky she was unconscious. They had both been out all night. We waited for Franky to wake up before we spoke. When Daniel fell asleep in the living room I took some photos of him. ..in case he changed his mind after he'd gotten rest. I was afraid he'd run."

"Is that why you tied him up?"

Oh fuck.

Bridget knew exactly what the judge was frowning about. It was all recorded.

Is all this necessary? I gotta piss.

So piss. Keep talking.

We'll untie you when you've finished.

The judge looked severely at her. "Franky may have been unconscious in the beginning, or she may not have been. All the jury will hear is the two of you interrogating a man begging for release."

Bridget lowered her eyes. "He changed his mind when he woke up. He was going to leave." She said, quietly.

"Gidge…" Franky murmured.

But Bridget pushed forward. "So yes, I tied him up."

The judge was skeptical, and looked at the short, thin blonde in front of her. "You. You tied up a grown man when he'd made up his mind to leave."

"Gidge…" Franky warned again. But again Bridget ignored her.

"I…hit him with a frying pan and knocked him out first."

"You what?" The judge's jaw dropped. Franky closed her eyes and groaned. Bridget was defensive. "I didn't know what to do! The real killer of Mike was about to disappear forever!" She lowered her voice. "I didn't know what to do."

Mrs. Wrestler signed and rubbed her forehead. "You both have been charged for wrongful imprisonment and coercion. Franky might get time already served, or a lesser sentence for first breaching her parole and then becoming a fugitive…but her outcome is looking far better than yours, my friend." The judge heaved another sigh. "Bridget, you had a relationship with a parolee, causing the breach of that parole, you harbored a felon, assaulted a man, wrongfully imprisoned him, forced a confession and only then called the police. There is no scenario where this has a good outcome for you."

Franky grabbed Bridget's shaking hands. She looked at the judge. "Daniel confessed. He was afraid at first, and needed. ..motivation. But it's all there. He wanted to talk."

The judge frowned at her. "It's true the police found the doll and the photos in the boot of Daniel's car. And for now he's sticking to his story…"

Franky narrowed her eyes. "For now?"

"Oh come on Franky, think! His lawyer is going to hand him an out on a silver platter! Man slaughter in self defense! And a confession under duress? When have you known those to be admissible? If the phone is thrown out, all you will have is a former kidnapped victim. He can tell the courts whatever he wants!"

Franky was indignant. "He bloody stalked us for ages! He stabbed me! And wait. ..you aren't representing him?"

The judge huffed at her. "How many of me do you think there are? No, he chose his own lawyer…and a bloody pit bull at that. Someone has to go down for Mike's murder, and he certainly has his eyes on the two of you."

"That's preposterous!"

"I agree. But the jury just needs the seed of doubt to be planted. And it isn't against the law to take photos, Franky, and the attack could very well have been self defense. You do have a…history…"

"He killed Mike!" Franky hollered. It was Bridget's turn to grab her hand. The judge sighed again.

"I know, Franky. I know. But you know how the law works. Of course the ideal situation would be that you both. ..all of you. ..were exonerated. But every one of you have committed multiple crimes! The truth of the matter is, someone is going to take the brunt of the justice system, and right now. ..that looks to be Bridget."

Franky shook her head. "Since when is tying someone up a greater crime than murdering a man and framing someone else?"

Mrs. Wrestler closed the file in front of her. "Premeditation, Franky. And he didn't frame you. He just never came forward."

"He was at that house getting rid of all the evidence that he was involved!" Franky shot back. "That sure sounds like premeditation to me, hey? You said yourself it was all in the boot!"

The judge rubbed her forehead again. "Franky I'm just telling you that it is very complicated. There isn't a precedent for a situation like this. The legal system is scrambling to catch up with the three of you to piece together the most unbelievable story in the history of the court.

The point is, a man is dead. Daniel's lawyer won't go down without a fight. Both of you are going to pay in some way or another for the parts you've played."

"I wouldn't have had to play a part of the cops had done their job instead of jumping me." Franky grumbled.

Mrs. Wrestler looked sharply at her. "They would have if you hadn't lied about the gun, Franky. Now is the time for the truth. All of it. If either of you are hiding anything, and the prosecutor discovers it, I simply cannot save you."

Franky exchanged a look with Bridget. The whole truth, really?

No fucking way.

Bridget raised a hand to hush them both. "I want to know the worst case scenario."

Franky didn't. She said as much. The judge ignored her and looked at Bridget. Compassion flashed across her face. "For Franky? Six months to a year. For you?" She hesitated, wincing at her own words.

"Two years."


	44. Chapter 44

Bridget had wanted to be alone. She sat on her bed in her cell with the door closed. That had been an hour ago. Franky paced in the common area until Allie finally put down the cards she'd been playing with Doreen.

"Franky, come play."

Franky chewed her bottom lip and continued to pace. Allie got up from the table and stood directly in her path, forcing Franky to acknowledge her. Franky stopped abruptly in front of her.

"The worst case scenario is rarely the outcome, Franky."

Franky shook her head and pushed past her, resuming her endless loop around the room. "You don't know my life."

Doreen put down her cards. "God, Franky, you're making me dizzy!"

Franky dodged Allie again and the other woman grabbed her arm. "Just go in and talk to her!"

Franky ripped her arm free but bit her lip again. She reached out and rubbed Allie's arm apologetically before finally turning and quietly disappearing into Bridget's cell. Allie looked after her for a moment and then sat back down to resume her card hand. Doreen leaned forward.

"If Ms. Westfall gets two years and Franky gets off…"

Allie put down a few cards. "Just play the game, Dor. And it's Bridget."

…

Bridget looked up when Franky entered. Her expression hardened. It was not a look Franky had seen often. Or maybe she'd just seen it way too often in the last few months. "I want to be alone."

Franky sat in the opposing chair and crossed her arms. "I know."

Bridget raised her eyebrow and glanced at the door. "Well?"

"So I'm not leaving ya to think this through on your own anymore. We're in this together."

That same hard blue stare burned into her. Franky returned it, although her look was softer. "Come on, Gidge. This is where you talk to me. .." She said quietly.

Bridget's eyes never changed but she smiled and stood. She reached out for Franky and the brunette cautiously allowed herself to be pulled into an embrace. The small smile had not touched those blue eyes yet. The blonde's joints seemed to creak with hesitation as she moved.

Bridget moved them to the bed and pushed Franky gently back until Franky was sitting on the bed. Bridget knelt in front of her and moved her hands slowly up Franky's thighs.

Franky caught her hands. "What are you doing?"

Bridget pushed Franky's hands away and resumed her touch. "If you won't let me be alone, I don't want to talk."

Franky frowned as Bridget's caress reached her hips. The touch was pleasing, but the eyes were wrong. This was not arousing at all. It was alarming. Bridget always talked to her, worked with her, pushed her to be better. She could do all of these things because of the two, Bridget was the better woman. She always was and always would be. Franky's admiration of her would never fade. But what version of her was this? What cool and distant stranger? Franky watched as Bridget began to trail kisses up her thigh. She stopped Bridget's motion again. "Gidge. .."

Bridget ignored her and leaned forward, pushing Franky back roughly. Franky gasped as her adrenaline spiked. She narrowed her eyes. Nope, she didn't know this version of her lover, and she sure as hell didn't like it. Her strong arms went up defensively, and she pushed Bridget off of her.

She quickly got off the bed and turned towards the door. "I fucking get it, alright? You don't wanna talk! I'll leave you alone, then."

She turned her back to Bridget and had one hand on the cell door handle when the blonde tackled her from behind. Franky hit the door face first and they both fell to the floor. One crying out in pain, the other in anger.

Franky rolled to her feet just as Bridget slammed into her again.

Fucking hell! Franky let out an oof! And fell back on the bed again. Bridget jumped on top of her and straddled her hips, grabbed her wrists and held them to the sides of the brunette's head. In a matter of seconds, Franky found herself pinned beneath a woman she couldn't recognize.

Franky forced herself to freeze, forced herself to calm down, to slow her heart. ..to be still. This was not a nameless attacker. This was her Gidget. She tried to relax her instinctively balled up fists, but she wasn't able to stop the sickening anticipation of some sort of pain. Meeting the judge had thrown Bridget to the edge of what she could handle. Something in her, it seemed, had snapped. Franky knew a little something about the edge. She controlled her breathing and internally fought the urge to squirm.

She looked into the flashing blue eyes above her and couldn't keep up with everything she saw in them. She felt the slightest twinge of fear. Her chest still heaved and her side burned and her head hurt where it hit the door. She clenched her jaw. She'd been held down and/or helpless before. She wasn't going to give Bridget the satisfaction of seeing her afraid. "Do it." She growled.

Bridget narrowed her eyes, for an instant confused. "Do what?"

"Yell at me. Hit me. Fuck me." Franky felt the sudden sting of unwanted tears in her eyes. "Hurt me! And fucking be done with me!"

Bridget began to shake. Franky held her eyes. "Two years, Gidge. Two for you, none for me. That's how this will play out, yeah? That's what you are sitting in here mulling over? Your life has been ruined because of me!" She bucked her hips a little, causing Bridget to tighten her grip. "After all I've done to ya and all I've dragged ya into…DO IT!" She ripped one of her hands free and lifted her shirt to expose her stomach. Multiple knife wounds were etched loudly against her skin. "Where's your shiv? Go on and finish what you started!" She touched the still raw cut from yesterday. When Bridget froze, Franky narrowed her eyes and squirmed again. "Or shoulder some of the blame and get the fuck off me!"

The coolness in her tone did not match the tears streaming down her cheeks. Bridget looked at her, hard, and then suddenly looked away. She started to cry. She let go of Franky and sat up, no longer threatening in her looming posture. She moved to get off of Franky but the brunette sat up quickly and grabbed her around her middle, forcing her legs to remain in an intimate embrace around Franky's waist. Franky wrapped her arms around Bridget and leaned her forehead into the other woman's chest, holding her tightly. She could feel Bridget's heart rate quicken and her fingers entwine in her hair. She barely struggled, rather sagging into Franky's unyielding arms.

"You do what you want to me." She mumbled into Bridget's chest. "And I'll let you. I swear I'll lay here and let you. But you tell me…you tell me first if I've lost you." She looked up and touched Bridget's temple. "Here." She traced the contours of her face, her throat and chest until her hand rested over her heart. "And here. You tell me if I've lost you."

Bridget shook her head, burying her face in Franky's hair. "What is happening to me?"

Franky gripped her for dear life. "These fucking walls, Gidge. Shit just got pretty real today."

Bridget started to shake again as she cried. She wasn't a monster. Had she really just threatened Franky for the second time in two days? "Baby…!" She cried.

Franky held her tighter, finally starting to relax. Between the shiv yesterday and the crazy today she wasn't sure if Bridget could stay away from the edge. This woman quaking in her arms was not meant for prison life.

"Listen to me. Listen. We are getting out of here. Both of us."

Bridget pulled away a fraction. "Not if Daniel changes his story, we won't. Again, completely at the mercy of a man…"

She trailed off and flinched as Franky rubbed her. Franky shook her head. Jesus her mind was everywhere. "Hey, hey come back, yeah? Come back to me."

Bridget groaned and pulled away even farther. "Let go of me."

Franky opened her arms immediately and leaned back on her elbows. Bridget was still sitting on top of her, and for a moment looked confused again. She hadn't expected to be let go upon request. She looked down at Franky and the brunette said softly, "go ahead, Gidge. I deserve it. I should never have chased after ya. I should have. ..i should have left you alone. I'm no good."

She lay fully back on the bed, waiting, trying not to move again. Trying to keep her promise to be still. She remembered, long ago, how to be still when her mother had come after her. She remembered how to just lay there and take whatever pain was dished out. She'd been a fighter ever since, but it wasn't stubbornness this time that kept her prostrate…it was love. And she knew she really did deserve whatever Bridget chose to do. "Just tell me if I've lost you, first."

Bridget put her head in her hands. "Franky.." She uncovered her eyes and at last Franky could read them. Despair.

Bridget leaned over and shifted around until she was lying next to Franky. She put her arm around Franky's chest and held her. "You haven't lost me. You won't."

Franky blew out the breath she'd been holding. Bridget took her face and turned Franky's head so she could look into her eyes. "But I do think I'm losing my mind."

Franky laughed once. "You aren't. You are too strong for that." She held the hand holding her face. "Do not let this place get to you. Please. I know. ..believe me I know. ..that it isn't the other women that break you down. It's these fucking walls."

"If I'm convicted…"

Franky cut her off. "You won't be."

Bridget's eyes filled with tears again. "If I am, it will kill me."

Franky looked at her and her chest constricted. How many times had she thought that exact thing in the last few months? Isn't that why she'd escaped? Because she couldn't bear the thought of one more second behind bars?

Bridget stroked her face. "I want to be in our bed. Not on this piece of shit. I want to go home. I just don't see that happening. ..and I'm just fucking afraid!"

Franky leaned in closer, a breath away. "Close your eyes." She commanded softly.

Bridget hesitated, but obliged. Franky smiled. "Remember that night when you came home from work, and you hugged me and said I smelled like a bakery?"

Bridget, her eyes still closed, smiled, feeling the tension in her body ease at the sweet memory. "Mmm…you'd gone to get pastries."

Franky grinned. "Do you remember what happened then?"

Bridget looked at her but Franky tapped her face. "Eyes closed."

Bridget shut her eyes again. Her smile broadened. "I told you something along the lines of 'you smell good. ..'

Franky huffed at her. "That's not what you said, you dirty bird." She kissed one of Bridget's closed eyes. "What you said made me drop everything and take you right there on the kitchen table."

Bridget grinned, her eyes still closed. Franky kissed her other eye, and then her nose, and then her cheek. She hovered her lips over Bridget's, just barely touching them. "When I'm with you, I am home, Gidge. You are my home. It's not the bed, or the carpets or the windows or the walls. It's you. That night was the first time I realized that. The first time that I knew where you were, I wanted to be. And then I'd be home."

Bridget opened her eyes and stared into the darkest green she'd ever seen. Franky never left her eyes as she moved her body into Bridget's. Her voice lowered. "And if you think, for even one second, Bridget Westfall. .." She eased on top of Bridget and balanced herself on one arm as she stroked the other woman's cheek. "If you think for one second I'd ever leave my home behind. .." She lowered her head until their lips grazed. Bridget caught her face suddenly and pulled her down into a smoldering kiss.

Franky rested fully on her, moving against her and feeling Bridget melt into the comfort of her weight. She pulled away slightly. "You really would be crazy." She finished, smiling into her favorite mouth.

Bridget wrapped her legs around Franky's waist and tugged her shirt off over her head, breaking the kiss again. Franky laughed and found her again, and when their lips collided, the heat was unbearable. No, she thought as she felt Bridget's hands on her bare skin, her eyes finally in line with her heated touch, no they never did master the art of just making out.


	45. Chapter 45

After the count that night, and after the heavy metal doors slammed into place, Franky had crawled back into bed with Bridget and lay facing her. The other woman was exhausted. She folded her arms against Franky's chest and closed her eyes, mumbling, "how did you ever get used to these mattresses?"

Franky grinned. "I ask myself that same question about you and processed food. .."

Bridget laughed and pushed against her, but Franky slipped an arm under her shoulders and drew her in, still grinning. Bridget rested her head on Franky's shoulder; her hand on Franky's stomach, tracing a meaningless pattern over her cotton shirt.

"I'll never forget how you looked after you ate an entire family-sized boxed lasagna. .."

Franky groaned good-naturedly and held Bridget closer. "God, that was so fucking good…"

Bridget hummed in victory and Franky grinned again. "I guess that means no more hand made pasta with that white wine glaze I thought you loved so much?" She heaved a theatrical sigh. "We are now a telly dinner kind of couple. You've ruined me forever."

Bridget snuggled in closer as she huffed out a laugh. "You'll eat street food before you ever let me in the kitchen again."

Franky smiled into her hair. "You know me so well, you sneaky minx. When we get out of here, I'm putting a lock on the fridge. You aren't allowed near the bloody thing."

Bridget hugged her tighter around her middle. "If." She said quietly. "If we get out of here."

Franky kissed the crown of her head. "No, Gidge…when."

…

When she was certain that Bridget was asleep, Franky untangled herself and slipped quietly out of the bed. If we get out of here, Bridget had said. How could Franky sleep now? One moment she was holding her Gidge, and the next she was clinging to her fragile psych! Franky sighed. Such was the treacherous tight rope of the edge. With so much uncertainty, there was no rest for Franky's already restless mind.

She closed the door quietly behind her, picking up the law book on her way out.

Allie looked up from the couch as Franky padded softly into the common area.

"Couldn't sleep, either?"

Franky started. "Fuck, you scared me! Why are you still up?"

Allie tapped her forehead. Another restless mind. "How's Bridget"?

Franky plopped next to her and tossed the law book between them. She rubbed her eyes.

"She's…struggling. I don't know what to do. We might not be getting out of here like we thought. Fuck, it seemed so clear on the outside!" She looked quickly at Allie, shame mottling her features. "The worst part is…Bridget looks to cop it harder than me."

Allie reached over and fiddled with the book. "How bad"?

"Max for me is a year. I proved my innocence so I might only have to serve for escaping and breaking my parole...IF Daniel sticks to his confession."

"…And Bridget?"

Franky put her head in her hands. "It's a long fucking list, Allie. Two years if she's convicted."

Allie closed her eyes, horrified. She blew out a breath. "Shit, Franky."

They were quiet for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Franky bounced her knee and after a moment, blurted, "I should never have gotten her involved! She didn't do anything wrong! It's my fuck up; I should be the one to pay for it... not her!"

Allie shrugged. She'd gone down helping Kaz. That's just what you do for the ones you love an believe in.

"The way I see it, she chose to help you. She's a grown woman, Franky. She knew what she was getting into. And you never would have gotten the confession without her. And," she added softly, "you could've died."

Franky huffed at her. "Gave her a ton of options, didn't i? Stealing her swipe card, showing up at her place bleeding all over the fucking floor, staying when I should have left? It was MY choices that landed us here. Mine."

She leaned her head back on the couch and looked at the woman who'd become her friend.

"She's not cut out for this place, Allie."

Allie laughed humorlessly. "Who is? Me? You? Jesus, Franky none of us are. The struggle isn't the bars we're behind. It's who you choose to become while you're in here, and whether or not you can live with yourself when you get out."

Franky groaned. Allie was so right. Franky battled that very thought every single fucking night when her nightmares reared up in her tortured mind. It had only been waking in Bridget's arms that kept them at bay. Bridget saw the good in her…believed the good in her. She had never been afraid of the monster.

"She's never given up on me." She said, both adoration and disbelief in her voice. "You know what I did to push her away. And yet there she was when I needed her the most. She still hasn't given up on me. God, Allie, I don't want this for her!"

Allie moved the book and scooted closer so she could put a kind hand on Franky's shoulder. "That's called love, Franky. From I've seen of the two of you, you better get used to it. That woman isn't going anywhere."

Franky looked at Bridget's cell door, thinking of the woman sleeping peacefully inside. She hadn't been in here long enough to collect the nightmares. For now, even within these fucking walls, Bridget could sleep soundly. She would age with grace…and it wouldn't be in teal.

Without taking her eyes off of the cell door she whispered, "Ferguson's using Bridget to get to me."

"Are you that surprised? She used me to get to Bea."

Allie squeezed Franky's shoulder, rather hard, causing the troubled brunette to look at her.

"I can help protect her, Franky." She laughed once. "I was a part of the Red Right Hand, you know." Her face became serious. "I'll watch her like a hawk. I'll follow her into the fucking showers if I have too…"

Franky's brow shot up. Allie quickly amended her statement, a small smile on her lips. "Or watch from the outside."

She squeezed Franky's shoulder again. "Look, Ferguson plays the long game. She's willing to do anything and go through anyone to get to her real target. You need to figure out who that is for sure. Otherwise we will be running in circles playing right into her hands. Someone will get boxed out, and that sick fuck will move in for the kill. We've both seen it happen before."

Franky was studying her. "Why do you want to help me? We barely know each other." She asked suddenly.

Allie shrugged again. It was clear in her mind why. Bea loved Franky. Franky had loved Bea enough to comfort a stranger in a hospital. If Allie knew anything, it was love. And if she was anything, she was fiercely loyal, and risking her life for Franky and Bridget fell in line with her natural sense of what was right.

Instead of saying all that was bouncing around her mind she simply said, "I loved Bea. I was supposed to have 10 years with her, but Ferguson took that from me. I won't let her take Bridget from you."


	46. Chapter 46

"Slot her."

"How?"

"I'm sure you'll. ..find a way. .."

"And what will you be doing while she's in the slot?"

"Oh…just worry about what you're going to do."

"What AM I going to be doing?"

…

H2 placed their trays at a table and sat to eat. Boomer took a huge bite of brown mush, but choked. She spat most of it out. Franky moved her tray out of the way, laughing. "Booms! Gross!"

Boomer wiped an arm across her mouth. "What? It's shit!" She sneezed, and more bits of brown came flying out. The other women covered their food, indignantly proclaiming.

Jake strolled over. "What is it, Jenkins?"

Boomer pointed to her tray. "It's shit, Mr. Stewart!"

He shrugged. "Well I had some. I liked it."

Franky burst out laughing. "Like eating shit, do you?"

The whole dining area burst out laughing. Jake flushed and walked over to Franky.

"That's it. Get up, Doyle. I'm slotting you."

Franky grinned at him. "Where's you sense of humor?"

Jake grabbed her arm and jerked her out of her chair, knocking it over. Only his hands on her kept her from falling. Franky cried out in shock and pain. "Oi! What the fuck! Lemme go!"

Bridget had stood the second Jake had grabbed Franky. "Jake, let her go! What are you doing?"

Jake turned to her. "Stay out of this, inmate, unless you want to join her?"

Franky jerked against him and he tightened his grip, beginning to drag her from the dining hall. Bridget stood helpless as she watched them go. Franky, still struggling against Jake, scanned the dining room. Her blood turned to ice. Before Jake could remove her completely from the room she suddenly shouted, "Allie!"

Allie had stood to avoid the falling chair. Her eyes took in everything. She gave Franky an almost imperceptible nod. Bridget shot her a look, confused for a moment. Then from the corner of her eye she saw Ferguson barely conceal a smug smile, as if something had just gone her way. Franky had seen it first, and from the darkened look on Allie's face, she'd seen it too. Bridget grabbed her tray to clear it, and Allie grabbed her arm congruously.

"What are you doing?" She whispered. "Sit down!"

Bridget sat, trying to remain calm. "I was going to go to the governor!" She whispered.

The other women looked at her as though she was crazy, and Allie leaned in. "No! We need to stick together. If Ferguson is behind this. .."

Boomer nodded towards the imposing woman across the room. "She is! Look at her, the smug bitch!"

Liz rested a hand on her arm. "If she's got Mr. Stewart in her control, anyone else could be, yeah?"

She looked nervously at Bridget, who shook her head. "Not Vera."

Allie glanced at Ferguson again. "Well Ms. Bennett and that screw have a thing on the side for sure. And he was always dodgy. You know he's helping the drug trafficking, yeah?"

Bridget's jaw dropped. She didn't know what surprised her the most, that Vera and Jake were together, or that Jake and Ferguson were in cahoots, or that Jake was the catalyst of Wentworth's drug trade.

"Does Vera know any of this?"

Doreen shook her head. "Who knows? I can't believe she would, but I can't believe she wouldn't know either!"

Boomer wiped her nose. "Yeah, ya otta know the bloke you're shagging, eh?"

Allie looked at Bridget. "The point is, Ferguson just managed to get Franky out of the way, which means you. .." she cast a hateful look in Ferguson's direction, "you must be her target."

She gripped Bridget's arm and looked at the other women. "You're not to go anywhere alone." She whispered. "Never alone."

The other woman nodded and Bridget still looked stunned. Why should she be anyone's target? Her and the former governor had never really seen eye to eye on. ..well, anything. But as she played with her fork she realized that her very existence in the prison from day one could be seen as a slight to Ferguson. And sociopaths didn't like being slighted, and they had a very long memory.

The women waited anxiously for the end of the breakfast shift. When the signal sounded, H2 collectively stood and gathered their trays. Ms. Miles opened the door for them. "Ok, yard time if you want it. Let's go."

As the women stood, Bridget suddenly leaned towards Ms. Miles. "Linda, I wonder if you could inform the governor that Franky's been slotted?"

Ms. Miles frowned slightly at the informal use of her first name, but she nodded. She'd always liked Bridget. "Yeah, sure, alright."

…

This was it. This was his moment to choose what he wanted the most. Governor of the prison, freedom from debt…unlimited wealth in drug trafficking. He just had to..

And it certainly wasn't unheard of, for a guard to rough up a prisoner. Take her down a few notches. But Ferguson had drawn a very clear outline as to what he was to do to Franky. Jake had balked at first. ..he'd never hurt a woman before. ..not like this. He knew in the back of his mind he was helping a monster crush Vera. ..but he wasn't hurting her physically. He'd never do that.

Ferguson had painted such a spectacular picture of his future with her by his side. He was revolted by her, but unequivocally attached to her. Together they had achieved a multitude of hideous things. There really was no going back. He had never been straight laced anyway, and the very reason for assuming the job at Wentworth was to keep his drug trafficking habits steadily moving. He'd owed too much money to pass up such an opportunity.

But then came Joan, with her wicked scheming and honeyed tongue. Since their initial interaction, they'd played with each other. Now it was woefully obvious who had the upper hand.

"And what am I going to be doing?"

"Make her scream."

He had backed away from her in horror. It hadn't been honey that dripped from her mouth then. It had been poison. But he had to do it. Ferguson owned him, and they both knew it.

As Jake dragged Franky down the hallway, she seemed to be fighting him less. At first he thought that she'd quit with no audience, but when he looked down at her, clutching her side and clenching her jaw, he realized she was in pain. He was already hurting her, and he hadn't even started.

He loosened his grip on her arm. If she didn't see it coming that would be better. ..for her. Maybe he could just tell Ferguson that she had screamed. ..

But no. The freak had a keen internal lie detector, and he knew there were multiple ways she could make him pay for not following through. He tightened his grip again. Steeling his resolve. What was one pesky inmate anyway?

Franky jerked against him suddenly. "Make up your mind, you fucking screw." She growled.

Jake was already on edge. She'd almost ripped free from his grasp when she pulled against him. His frayed nerves thinned even more. He pushed her against the wall. Her brilliant green eyes widened when he snarled softly, "look around. These halls are empty."

Franky heard the threat. She was exactly as smart as Ferguson warned him she was. Her eyes narrowed. "She's got you by the balls, doesn't she?" Jake knew she didn't mean Vera. He looked around quickly as his eyes flashed. With a sudden and vicious motion he punched her in the stomach.

Franky let out a startled groan when he hit her. She hadn't seen that coming. Even as she doubled over, Jake grabbed her by the throat and pushed her against the wall again. Franky forced a laugh as she gasped for breath. "Or did she already rip your tiny sac out and has moved on to your dick?" She gripped the large hand holding her throat and met his angry stare. "Or was she a bit disappointed in that department, too?"

Jake snarled and kicked one of her legs to the side and shoved himself into her. "Your about to find out, aren't you? Clever girl like you has it all figured out, hey?"

Franky stomach turned, and it wasn't just from the punch. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" She looked down, feigning surprise. "Or maybe not?" She smiled spitefully as his body betrayed him. Clearly he wouldn't. Her grin taunted him. "Swinging for my team then, are you?"

Jake pulled her closer. "You don't know the first thing about me!"

Smile gone. Teeth bared. "I don't want to know you, you sick fuck. All I see is a puppet on a string. A sick little twisted puppet who loves being directed by a Ferguson shaped hand!"

She matched his stare defiantly and Jake faltered. He'd never come across a woman like this before. She didn't seem…afraid. Franky used his moment of hesitation to move her leg back and shift against him, removing the feel of him, however flaccid, from her. Even as she shoved against his chest, she felt sick.

"You get the fuck away from me." She said softly. There was finally a twinge of fear in her angry tone. They both knew who would ultimately win this fight.

As they glared at each other, Franky's mind flashed back to the garden shed with Bates. The most frightening difference was that Bates had been an inmate, and Jake was a screw…the second in command screw at that. He could literally do whatever he wanted to her and no one would ever believe an inmate over an officer. As she stared defiantly at him, she could see that he was hesitant. His heart wasn't in it. But there was a desperation behind his stare. Ferguson had something on him that he couldn't shake. Either way, whether he wanted to or not, he was going to finish what he'd started.

"Jake?"

Will Jackson had turned the corner and had froze in surprise at what he saw.

Franky was gripping her side and looked awful frail against the roughness being shown to her. Her other hand was against Jake's chest, as if to ward him off. Jake was too close to her, too threatening. His fucking hand was around her throat! Will's eyebrows shot up.

"What are you doing?"

Jake hurriedly stepped back from Franky. His hand went from her throat to her arm. "It's fine. Bit of an issue getting this one into the slot, yeah?" His tone had a forced lightness to it. Will narrowed his eyes.

"Let her go, mate," He said softly.

Jake laughed incredulously. "I got this, mate. No worries here." He could feel himself sweating. Will stepped forward. He was a big man. Gentle, but there was no denying the strength within.

"Let her go."

Jake balanced his options quickly. "Well this is a bit awkward, hey? And here I thought I was the commanding officer?"

Franky looked from one man to the next. Her existence didn't matter to them right now. Her heart thudded in her chest as she waited on bated breath for one man to yield.

Will's radio suddenly crackled, making the three of them jump. "Sierra 3 this is Sierra 5 we need assistance in the H2 yard!"

Will grabbed for his radio. He glanced at Franky and saw the sheer panic and desperation on her face. Whatever he had walked in on, he wasn't going to leave her. Not with Jake.

"Sierra 5 this is Sierra 3, I'm on my way."

Jake smirked at him, but Will held his hand out to Franky, ignoring Jake completely. "Lucky for you the slot is on the way, Franky. Come on."

Franky pulled from Jake's grip and went quickly to the other, safer man's side. Will took a tactical step as she moved past him so she was positioned behind him. His protective stance made it very clear as to what he thought of Jake in that moment. Jake was flushed with anger, but didn't have the nerve to respond with anything. Will took his silence as his que to leave.

"Come on, Franky," He said in his quiet, calming voice.

Franky cast a last look at Jake. As Will took her arm she covertly flipped Jake the bird. His cool smile reminded her that they had unfinished business.

Fuck you she mouthed, as she followed Will down the hall.


	47. Chapter 47

Allie roamed the yard casually, her hood up and her hands stuffed deep into her pockets. Her eyes never stopped moving. Ferguson was sitting at her usual bench with her motley crew of dealers and addicts. Bridget was surrounded by H2. They all casually took in the sunshine, but there was no denying the tension in the yard.

Suddenly a scuffle broke out. Allie barely gave it a second glance. They weren't women she wasn't concerned with. But then, most of Ferguson's crowd leapt to their feet and waded into the fray. The scuffle became a brawl instantly.

There was something spectacularly different about this fight. The sheer force of the violence aside, it seemed as though the escalation was deliberate. Ferguson's crew was attacking everyone in sight, inciting a chain reaction of violence unparalleled to what Allie had seen before. Even the women trying to escape were being dragged into the mix, forced to defend themselves.

Allie didn't care what was happening. She knew the why. She ran for the H2 table, colliding with several other running women. She almost made it before someone grabbed her from behind. As she frantically scrabbled for release, her wide eyes found Bridget's.

"Get out of the yard!" She screamed.

She fell as Bridget stood. Everyone was being dragged into the fight, as it was impossible to avoid. Random, scurrying women were tackled to the ground. Allie lost her girls for a moment when another woman jumped on top of the woman already punching her. Arms flailed and there was the unbearably loud and frantic noise of a riot alarm blaring around the yard.

Officers came running.

Allie twisted and squirmed as she was beaten. The two women were taking turns punching her. She curled up to absorb the blows, trying not to suffocate under their weight.

…

"Get out of the yard!"

Allie's terrified eyes and guttural yell was burned into Bridget's mind. She rose to her feet quickly with Liz, Doreen and Boomer. Officers had opened the gates to let fleeing women inside. The officers were instantly smothered. Bridget saw Will Jackson go down in the pile up. Ms. Miles was there too, wrestling with several women, trying to subdue them. She saw Allie go down. Boomer saw it too.

"Oh, hell naw!" She snarled. Bridget tried to stop her but Boomer charged like a rhinoceros into the thick brawl, fighting her way to Allie. Bridget watched in awe as inmates were blown aside by her juggernaut.

…

One of the inmates reached back for another blow to Allie's face when a large arm wrapped itself around her neck and jerked her bodily off of the curled up blonde. The second woman turned, only to see Boomer looming over her. She never hesitated, and smashed the woman's face with her huge, calloused fist.

Boomer threw the wounded woman aside and reached down to help Allie up. The blonde was breathing heavily and bleeding from several cuts on her face. She held onto Boomer.

"Why aren't you with Bridget?" She had to shout over the noise.

Boomer was busy for a moment, pulling from Allie to bash another couple of women who'd gotten too close. "What, and leave you to have all the fun?" She yelled back. Allie grabbed her arm.

"Fun? Are you mad? Let's go! Boomer, come on!"

Boomer turned with her and together they waded through the teal sea, swinging and shoving; and moving painfully slowly towards the safety of the gate.

...

Liz and Doreen pushed Bridget towards the gates. Her last line of defense. Liz looked around in the chaos and had lost sight of everyone she loved. She gripped Bridget's arm. "Let's go, quickly!"

Bridget's eyes were alight with worry. This many women, and so few officers…so many people were getting hurt! It seemed like the whole yard was boiling with flesh and teal. She'd never seen anything like it, and she'd never been so terrified. Jake met them at the gate. He looked like a caged animal. He reached for Bridget.

"Let's get you out of here!"

Bridget jerked away from him. She preferred the yard at the moment. Jake looked at the horrific violence behind her. "Bridget, please! Vera told me to get you out of here! Please!"

His face was desperate and honest. In her heightened state of alarm Bridget allowed herself to be led through the gates to safety. Once they reached the inner, cooler halls, Jake took Bridget's arm. "Come on, I'll take you to Vera."

Liz and Doreen made as if to follow him, but Jake pointed to their unit. "No! Go to your unit and stay there!"

He was earnest. This was the last screw that any of the present women wanted to trust, but his naturally honest face and the chaos around them made it difficult to think. Liz tried desperately.

"We'll all go to the unit, yeah? Bridget will be safe with us."

Jake shook his head. "The governor wants her in her office. It's ok, she'll be safe!"

Bridget nodded to them. "Go, it's ok." She wasn't convinced it was. Something was off and her greater instinct was sounding alarms as loud and real as the deafening ones reverberating around the halls.

The brawl was coming closer as women trying to flee were caught up again in the hallways. Their panicked yells and screams of pain echoed hellishly against the unyielding concrete. Jake pulled Bridget deeper into the prison.

…

Will finally managed to fight his way away from the main group of crazed women in the yard. It was such a delicate balance between wrestling with violent women and upholding his commitment to protect them. He did his best to not cause harm as he flipped, shoved, grappled and pushed the inmates away.

When at last he broke free and sent the majority fleeing, he scanned the yard, looking for the other officers. He caught the eye of several before they pursued the main antagonists as they fled into the prison. He found Linda. There was one glaringly missing officer. "Where's Jake?" He yelled.

Linda caught a running woman and brought her to the ground. "I don't know! He ran back inside!" She yelled back.

Will stood still for a moment, his mind working furiously. This wasn't a random riot. It was too ridiculously chaotic. He'd quelled enough riots to know that the main group of offenders had deliberately kept the fight going as long as possible.

The main offenders were Ferguson's crew.

Jake was missing.

"Oh, shit," he muttered under his breath, bolting for the gates. "Franky!"

...

With the sounds of the fight getting farther and farther away, Bridget felt a greater uncertainty. In the midst of panic she had been expertly separated from the women who had been constantly surrounding her. She was alone with Jake, a man she'd just recently realized was the last man she wanted to be alone with.

His grip on her arm remained, even after they were safely away from the riot. The duress alarms still blared in the hallways, adding pressure to her already pounding heart.

Her shorter stride had a difficult time keeping up with Jake. "Jake, slow down…Vera's office is that way!"

Jake pulled her firmly along, well beyond the safety of the governor's office. Deeper into the prison. Bridget looked at his face and felt, not panic, as she'd expected in that moment. She felt resigned. So this was it. This was the carefully mastered plan to separate her from Franky and the other women.

"How long have you been in Ferguson's pocket?" She asked quietly.

Jake snorted at her. His pace didn't slow.

"Jake, please. .."

"Shut up." He finally looked down at her. "Just. ..come on."

"Whatever she has over you, we can fix it Jake, but please. Let me go." She pulled against him to slow him down.

Jake turned an agonized face at her, opened his mouth, but shut it again like a steel trap. Bridget felt a stone in the pit of her stomach as he lurched forward, dragging her with him.

Bridget easily recognized where they were. When Jake pushed open the double doors to the kitchen, Bridget inadvertently gasped. Juice and her boys were waiting for them.

As was Ferguson.

When they entered, Ferguson looked up in delight. "Ms. Westfall! You made it!"

Bridget turned one last time towards Jake and grabbed for his arm. "Don't!"

But Jake only brushed her way and gave her a shove. She instinctively moved to the side. It was moving deeper into the kitchen, but farther from the six foot monster in front of her. She looked at Jake, pleading.

"Jake…"

Ferguson stepped forward and Jake looked at her. "Oh, I think Mr. Stewart has some rather…unfinished business to attend?" She smiled wickedly at Bridget. "In the direction of the slot, perhaps? Off you go, then."

Jake didn't look at Bridget as he hurried away. That familiar flower of fear bloomed quickly in Bridget's lower belly and she took another step back.

"Joan…" Her tone had the slightest warning in it but Ferguson put up her hand.

"Shh, shh, shh…what was it you said to me? Oh yes…I could give a fuck what you want to talk about."

Juice and the boys laughed and moved in.


	48. Chapter 48

Franky jumped to her feet as the alarms went off. She raced to her door and yelled in frustration. What was happening?

"Franky. .."

Even over the alarm she could here Jake's sing song voice calling to her. She shoved herself away from the door. Jake peered through the small window for a moment, allowing her to fully become aware of her situation. She heard the click as the door was unlocked. Jake stood there, chest heaving, eyes dark. He'd come running for her. He wasn't hesitant anymore.

Franky took one step back but there was no where to go. She lunged for the open door but Jake was ready for her. He easily caught her around the middle and threw her back onto the bed. She bounced once and tried to roll off, but Jake pounced on her. He caught each fist she swung at him and pinned her hands to the sides her head. He jammed a knee into her thighs to open her legs. His blackened stare bore into her.

Franky swung a leg off the bed, hating the feel of him fall between her legs. She swiftly cocked her leg and slammed her knee into his side. She turned her head and bit a wrist holding her.

Jake grunted and then yelled. He punched her in the jaw as she continued to writhe beneath him. He struggled to catch her wrist again but she decked him in the ear and shoved against him. His grip loosened for a fraction of an instant and Franky heaved him from her and rolled off the bed.

Jake recovered quickly and made another grab for her. She kicked a knee out from under him and as he went down she threw an elbow into the side of his face. She turned and fled for the open door.

Jake caught her foot as she fled and twisted her to the ground. There was a fierce struggle as he pulled himself on top of her, grabbing for her wildly flailing arms. Franky growled under him and bucked her hips. She lifted a leg and caught him around the chest. With a powerful downward motion he was torn off her again. They both rolled to their feet, chests heaving.

Franky had her back to the open cell door now, and without taking her eyes off of Jake she carefully shifted her feet. She could see in his crazed face that he'd gone past the point of no return. As she saw him clench his fists she turned to flee again.

This time he didn't pull her back, but instead used her forward momentum to crush her face first into the door across the hall. She yelled in acute pain as her nose broke and exploded with blood. Her vision blurred as her eyes watered. Jake grabbed her hair and snapped her head back, throwing her to the floor.

There was a sickening thud as Franky's head connected with the cool concrete floor. She went limp immediately.

Jake cursed, standing over her. What a bloody mess! With a quick look down the empty hallway he bent down and heaved her up. It was almost finished. He had a brief thought of how little she was, this fucking demon he'd just tangled with. He grunted as he dropped her onto the bed. As he looked down at her, he felt a twinge in his groin. For all her tough façade, her hardened exterior…even the blood covering her face…there was no denying she was a beauty.

Jake felt the familiar stirring again as he looked at her. His eyes roamed her still form and maybe, he thought, if she was barely conscious, he could do it. The more feral side of him was itching to get his hands on those full breasts. ..

Barely conscious, not unconscious. He patted her face roughly. "Hey, wake up."

Franky groaned and turned her head away from him. She didn't open her eyes. Jake patted her face again as he reached the other hand down to loosen his belt.

"Wake up, Franky. I need you to know what I'm about to do to you…"

Franky opened her eyes and groaned. There was a spot of blood on the pillow where she'd turned her head. She saw Jake looming over her and winced. When he gently touched her cheek she jerked her head away. A wave of dizziness washed over her.

Jake crawled on top of her slowly, feeling his arousal brush up against her thigh. She couldn't fight him anymore, and with all the distractions elsewhere, he could take his time.

"I want you to know that you are all alone." He whispered. He'd memorized Ferguson's script. "No one is coming to save you."

Franky tried to push against him, but her body was unresponsive to her brain's desperate commands. She groaned again.

Jake smiled at her weak attempts to push him away. There was something about a strong woman so powerless, it seemed, that excited him. He rubbed himself against her thigh, shifting slightly until he was pressed more intimately into her. Not long now…

"There is nothing but empty concrete. You are in the belly of the prison, Franky, alone…helpless. ..incapable of saving yourself."

Jake suddenly grabbed her breasts, squeezing her hard. He moaned against the aching in his groin. For all his previous opposition to this scheme of Ferguson's…he realized he wanted Franky. He needed to be inside her. He craved her screams as he pounded into her. He longed for her unwelcome and inadvertent release. His throbbing and full erection was forcing its way out of his loosened pants. His mouth was on her neck breathing her in, exciting him further. His hot breath blew his lust over her. He was going to be governor! Everything was his for the taking!

Franky moaned in disgust as she felt his hands mercilessly punishing her chest. She could feel every inch of him pressing into her. Nausea hit. She turned her face towards him suddenly and vomited.

Jake leapt off of her and stood back, his pants slipping down his legs. "Ugh!"

Franky heaved again, over the edge of the bed, the rest of her breakfast splattering to the floor. Jake frantically wiped his neck and collar, looking green. He took a step towards her as Will burst into the cell.

Jake had one second to register the large fist coming at his face. Then it was black. He crumbled to the floor, unconscious.

"You son of a bitch!" Will growled at him before turning to Franky. "Jesus." He muttered. She was barely conscious and covered in blood. He reached out to her and she flinched.

"No, no, hey, it's me."

Her voice was sluggish. "Mr. J?"

He brushed a strand of hair from her face and saw more blood on the pillow. "Jesus Christ, Franky!"

Franky gripped the front of his sweater. "Get me the fuck out of here," she croaked.

Will didn't think. He simply helped her to her feet. They both looked down at Jake. Will felt a fierce anger in his chest when he saw the lowered pants and clear indication of Jake's intentions. He didn't hold her back as she viciously kicked Jake between the legs. He put a comforting arm around her.

"Ok, Franky. It's ok. He's not going to touch you again. Come on."

He led her out of the cell and propped her against the wall. Going back into the cell he grabbed Jake's keys and his swipe card. He firmly shut and locked the cell behind him, leaving the unconscious man inside. Let him wake up locked in the slot, the fucking animal! When he returned to Franky's side she gripped him, sagging into his chest in a woozy embrace. There was a sob in her throat as he tentatively put his arms around her.

"Ferguson told him to…hurt me." She said.

Will's arms tightened around her. "He's lucky you didn't have a garden fork, yeah?"

Franky laughed humorlessly and bent over suddenly, heaving the last contents of her stomach onto the floor. Will took her arm carefully. "Medical." He said firmly.

Franky shook her head. "Unit."

"Franky, look at you…"

"Unit." She said again. "Please."

Will looked at her. Her unit surrounded by her girls. Safer than the isolated medical wing. He glanced back at the slot one last time. And nodded.


	49. Chapter 49

It was slow getting back to the unit. Franky clearly had a concussion, and seemed to be having trouble going in a straight line. He held onto her and felt her trembling under his touch. He'd never seen this version of Franky before. He needed to get her safely to her unit, needed to have a word with Vera, and officially arrest that prick in the slot.

Will caught her as she stumbled. Her arm automatically reached out for the wall. He winced at the amount of blood on her sleeve. She'd wiped her face as soon as they'd been clear of the slot. Angrily scrubbing the scent of Jake off of her. When she snapped her own nose into place, Will felt sick. More blood came out, and she groaned quietly as she pinched it and put her head back. Will had to catch her as she tipped backwards.

"Franky, you really need medical!"

She stubbornly shook her head. "I've been hit before. Please, Mr. J, can we just go to my unit?"

Will's brow was crinkled with concern. The riot alarms had finally been cut off, which meant everything was getting back to normal. He nodded and they continued at Franky's pace.

Will looked sideways at Franky as they moved slowly down the hall. This woman had been through enough. Scratch going to Vera. Once he brought her back to her unit he was going back to the slot to beat Jake to death. He might even stop by H4 and get the Red Right Hand to help him. Franky stumbled again.

"Shit!"

"Ok Franky? Almost there. .."

She held the wall with one hand and the back of her head with the other. Will helped her along and as they passed by the medical wing, they both could see it was busy. Officers and inmates were everywhere, and the little unit was bursting at the seams. The riot had produced more than its share of casualties. A nurse looked up as they walked by. She ran up to them and took Franky's head in one hand and shown a light in her eyes. Franky squinted and pulled away. "I'm fine. I'm good."

The nurse clicked her tongue. "Yeah, you look it, don't you? There's no room for you anyway. Wait here a moment. ."

She bustled off and returned quickly. She pushed an ice pack into Franky's hands. Franky didn't put it to her face as expected, but to the back of her head. The nurse narrowed her eyes and brought up the flashlight again. Will took Franky's arm.

"I'll make sure she gets to her unit."

The nurse frowned. "Tell her girls to keep her awake for at least three hours if she hit her head." She looked at Franky. "And you come see me in the morning."

Franky was already turning away. As they closed in on H2 Franky finally asked, "what happened out here?"

Will made a noise deep in his throat. "Ferguson's crew caused a riot in the yard."

Franky spun that in her foggy mind. Slotted is to removed as riot is to separation. She quickened her pace and tried to shake the thick drowsiness from her head. She needed to clap eyes on her girls. All of them. When she rounded the corner to her unit, Liz, Doreen, Boomer and Allie were all hunched around the table.

They stood when Will and Franky entered. Liz put a hand to her mouth in horror. Boomer came forward, a bit menacing towards Will. "What happened to you?" She asked Franky. "You were in the slot!" She looked rather accusingly at Will.

Franky still held the ice pack to the back of her head. The cold was helping with her clarity at least, if not the steady pounding against the walls of her mind.

"Easy Booms. You guys right?"

Each of them nodded, and from the looks of it only Allie seemed to be battered.

Allie came forward and held onto Franky, looking in shock at her blackened eyes and blood stained cheeks. "Were you in the slot?"

Franky nodded. "Until Mr. J here got me out." She cast a look at him, too many feelings rushing through her. No matter what she'd done to him, no matter how hard she pushed him, he always seemed to be watching out for her. He was a damn fine man.

Franky turned from him and looked past Allie, scanning the room in alarm. The one whose face she sought after the most was blatantly absent. "Where's Bridget?"

Doreen looked from Franky to Mr. Jackson. "Mr. Stewart took her to Vera's office during the riot. He said she'd be safe there, that the governor asked after her."

Franky pulled away from Allie and stared at Will. He didn't comprehend what he saw on her battered face, so he wasn't quick enough to grab her before she bolted from the unit. Where did that sudden energy come from? He'd basically carried her back to the unit!

"Franky, come back!" He hollered. Allie didn't hesitate and ran after her. Will reached out, missing her by a hair. "Whoa! Hey! Stop!"

Allie dodged him easily and disappeared after Franky. The remaining women eyed Will. He held up a hand. "Don't…"

The three women charged past him in the direction Franky and Allie took, dodging his attempts to stop them. Even Liz got by him.

Will heaved in exasperation. "Really?" He asked the now empty unit. He and grabbed his radio. "Sierra 1, this is Sierra 3 do you have eyes on Ms. Westfall?"

"Sierra 3, this is Sierra 1 start a count immediately and issue the lock down. Negative on Ms. Westfall."

Will looked in the direction of the slots, and then in the direction all of H2 just raced towards. Laundry, showers and kitchen. Where were they headed? They knew something he didn't. Without thinking he started in their direction, raising the radio to his lips again. "Does anyone have eyes on Ferguson?"

There was crackling static as multiple officers answered in the negative. Will began to run.


	50. Chapter 50

Franky rounded another corner and then sagged against the wall. Her head pounded relentlessly and she struggled to think coherently. She didn't even know where the fuck she was headed. She held her head in frustration, feeling sick again. Her whole body ached both physically and mentally. If she didn't think of something right fucking now, she was sure Bridget would be killed. Somewhere within these corridors, her love needed help desperately. She was sure of it.

Allie caught up to her, breathless. "Franky, where…?"

Franky pushed from the wall. Allie's panic matching her own. "I don't know! Fuck!"

Boomer, Liz and Doreen almost ran into them. Franky's heart warmed. They'd all come when she needed them, just like the old days. Only this time she hadn't, as top dog, commanded it. These were her girls, standing by her side, without concern for their own safety. This was her family.

Before anyone could speak, Will also rounded the corner, breathing heavily. The five inmates froze. In this moment, would he be a screw, or an ally?

"God damn it!" He huffed. This was so fucking unprecedented but he didn't care. The other officers were busy with the lock down. Something very terrible would happen if they didn't act now. He could feel it to his core. He looked to the women and barked quick orders. He'd shoulder the responsibility later.

"Liz, Boomer…showers. Allie, Doreen…laundry. Hit the panic button if you see them!"

They caught the urgency in his tone and hurried off. As they disappeared around different corners he shouted, "BOOMER! THE PANIC BUTTON!"

But he was alone again. He blew out a breath and a curse and headed swiftly after Franky, who was already sprinting towards the kitchen.

…

Bridget was fighting for her life. She had grabbed a broom and was frantically swinging it at anyone who go too close. Juice and her crew just laughed and took their time, taunting her. She felt like a little bird with a broken wing, surrounded by lions. She grit her teeth as she glared fiercely at them. She wasn't twenty anymore, and even though she knew how this would end, she was damned determined to go down fighting. She took another powerful swing at Juice and the other woman chuckled.

"She's so fond of that broom, boys! Think she's trying to tell us something?"

One of the big blondes, Stella, grinned. "She ain't going to like it so much after we're done with it, hey?"

More booming laughter. Bridget backed up another step and swung the broom again. She cast a quick eye at Ferguson, who was calmly leaning against the counter, watching.

"They did this to you Joan, didn't they? You'll let them do the same to me? What have I done to you?"

Ferguson watched her coldly. "You exist. Ms. Westfall. You are and have always been…a blight…to this prison."

Bridget swung the broom again, this time connecting with an outstretched hand. Stella yelled and jumped back again. Bridget knew if she backed up any further she'd be cornered, and it would be over.

She growled as she desperately kept the four hulking women at bay. Their thirsty eyes were alight with her pending torture. "The only blight that's EVER walked into this prison," she snarled, "has been you. You're sick. And you need help!"

Ferguson chuckled as Bridget was forced to take another step back. "The only one I see who could. ..benefit from a little help. .." She took a mocking gasp. "Why it's you, isn't it?" Her tone hardened and she nodded to Juice. "Get on with it, then."

Bridget's whole body tensed. They were going to charge her. She blew her hair from her face and held the broom ready.

Suddenly a brownish green blur burst through the kitchen doors. Ferguson and the other women looked away from Bridget in the sudden, shocking intrusion.

If there was one thing Franky knew, it was her way around this fucking kitchen. She instantly calculated the path of least resistance. She hopped onto the island and skidded across it, scattering pans and silverware as she went. She landed with a light thud between her love and her enemies. In seconds she reached under the island, put a boot onto the counter, and with an unearthly howl literally tore the boning knife from its chain.

When she faced Juice and the other woman, wielding the knife, they all backed up. Ms. Westfall was one thing. Franky Doyle was quite another. For this brief moment she was everything that terrified them about her.

Franky snarled as she held the knife out in front of her. "WHICH ONE?" She bellowed. "WHICH ONE OF YOU FUCKERS WANTS IT FIRST?"

Ferguson stepped forward calmly, a small smile on her face. "Well hello, Doyle." She said pleasantly. Her black eye raked over Franky, taking in every detail. "You look…rather peakish." She raised her eyebrows. Jake had obviously failed her, but the woman in front of her did not come away unscathed.

Bridget reached out as Franky teetered. There was something very wrong with her. Something had happened to her between her time in the slot and this moment. Her face and sweater were covered in blood. There was more blood matted into the brunette hair on the back of her head. The hand holding the knife shook. Whatever adrenaline induced rage that had got her to Bridget's side had completely sapped her strength.

Franky fell to one knee and Bridget grabbed onto her. Franky could barely keep the knife up. Bridget took it from her and held it out, trying to keep Franky from falling over with her other arm. She wasn't much of a support, and felt the other woman slipping from her grasp.

Large black spots were blocking Franky's vision. Her head screamed in pain and there was a rushing sound in her ears that was deafening. She leaned her head back against Bridget's thigh and felt the blonde's arm across her chest. She tried to focus on the looming shapes in front of her. She'd lost consciousness enough in the last month to know she was about to pass out. She helplessly battled her own body but it was too late. Darkness came, and to the delight of Ferguson and to the horror of Bridget, Franky fell forward in a dead faint.

Ferguson chuckled. "Well that was. ..rather anti-climatic, wasn't it? What a pity...Ms. Westfall...for you."

She looked at Juice. "I believe we have a two for one special today!"

Juice and her crew found their courage again when Franky fell. They collectively nodded and moved in for the kill. Juice licked her lips and smiled wickedly down at Franky's still form. She eyed the knife warily as she almost drooled onto her sweatshirt. Her eyes fell upon Franky again. She didn't need a struggle to be aroused by this one. "I've been waiting for my turn with you," she said gleefully. Without taking her eyes off of Franky she called out, "You boys get started on the shrink. I think I'm going to have my dessert first."


	51. Chapter 51

At Juice's proclamation, Bridget started to cry. It was less for herself as it was for Franky. She just had been through too much. ..and not just in the last few months…her entire life had been one torturous scene after another. Franky had fought tooth and nail for every second of her life to simply remain alive. Now, as Juice's crew lost their initial trepidation at her entrance and moved in, Bridget looked down at Franky. Her survivor. Her friend. Her comforter. Her lover. She knew she couldn't watch what she knew Franky wouldn't live through. Even if it was also done to herself, and they both were brutally murdered right here on this damn prison kitchen floor, Bridget couldn't watch. She'd had enough.

Bridget let the broom clatter to the floor. She sank to her knees at Franky's side and briefly rested a hand on her back. "Oh, baby," she whispered. "Oh my baby, I love you."

Through her tears she saw Juice's size 7 prison issued shoes stop just before her. She looked up at her and then quickly back down to Franky. She didn't want Juice to be that last face she saw. She desperately wished Franky had fallen face up, but it really didn't matter. She'd memorized every inch of this woman. She would know her just as intimately one hundred years from now, if they happened upon each other in a dark alleyway. She knew what Franky looked like, inside and out. This woman had been her soul mate even before she was born.

As Stella reached out for her, to jerk her away from Franky's side, Bridget put the knife point to the crook of her forearm and suddenly screamed as she carved a deep groove from her inner elbow to her wrist. For an instant there was nothing but a thin, dark red line, as her body caught up with what her brain had just done. When the two collided and became one again, her whole forearm darkened and her blood welled up. It burst through her opened skin and spurted from her body. She'd hit an artery.

Juice and Stella both jumped back with loud and shocked exclamations. The other two women scrabbled away from the cascade of blood pooling rapidly onto the floor. Ferguson stepped forward. She'd lost sight of them when Bridget sank to her knees. "What has happened?" She demanded.

Juice and her girls were hastily heading for the exit. Juice called back over her shoulder. "The shrink just topped herself! We didn't sign up for that shit!"

Ferguson peered curiously over the counter. Bridget was on her knees by Franky's side, her forearm laid on the still brunette's back. Blood covered both of them. Bridget's head sagged. She was mumbling something.

When Juice and her crew reached the double doors to exit, they were knocked back. Will had burst in. His sheer force of entry actually knocked one of the women over.

He took in the scene. "What the FUCK?" He raised his radio to his lips. "Officer needs assistance in the kitchen…NOW!"

He threw the radio to the side as he raced for Bridget and Franky, smashing the red panic button as he went. Ferguson stepped to intercept him and for once in his life, he reached way back without hesitation and punched a woman in the face just as damn hard as he could.

Will was a big man of Samoan decent. Ferguson, with all her savvy fighting skills, crumpled to his feet like a broken doll. She was instantly forgotten. Will ran to Bridget and crashed to his knees beside her, ripping off his sweater. He maniacally tore it in two, grabbing Bridget's arm and wrapping it as tightly as he could. It was soaked in her blood immediately. Bridget sighed as she sagged against him.

"Will…"

He held her arm with both of his large hands, keeping endless and mighty pressure on her wound.

"Shh, shh…it's ok. It's gonna be ok. Stay with me now!"

As he determinedly held onto her he looked at Franky. She was covered in Bridget's blood, and maybe some of her own. He couldn't tell if she was breathing. Fuck, he'd been right behind her! He hasn't realized just how swift she was on her feet. Where the fuck was his assistance? The alarm blared around the kitchen, echoing off the stainless steel pots and pans that hung over the island.

At last the kitchen doors burst open and half a dozen officers poured inside. Will put his arm around Bridget. "Help is here…you stay with me!"

Bridget couldn't answer. She'd already lost consciousness.

…

Franky was floating peacefully in the darkness. It was blissfully quiet. There was no pain. She felt a soothing and warm light on her back. She turned to it and broke into her famous lopsided smile.

"Hey, Gidge."

Bridget looked at her lovingly, her beautiful blue eyes crinkling at the corners. She was the source of the warmth and light in this darkness. Her skin glowed, as though her blood were made of soft, incandescent lights.

"Hey, baby."

She reached out her arms and Franky happily melted in her embrace. They rocked each other in a slow cadence while Bridget hummed a quiet tune.

Franky pulled away, just a bit, to cup the shorter woman's face. She smiled again. "God, I love ya."

Bridget returned the smile and leaned in closer to be kissed. Before Franky touched her lips, Bridget sighed gently in anticipation. "I love you, too…"

When Franky kissed her, she felt the woman in her arms…fade. She tightened her grip and pressed her lips more firmly into Bridget's.

But her encircled arms continued to get closer and closer to her own chest. Her Gidget was disappearing! She leaned back, suddenly terrified. "Stay with me!"

Bridget was now fully transparent. Franky tried to touch her, but her hands passed through the body in front of her. Bridget smiled again, both peaceful and somewhat sad. "I love you, Franky Doyle."

She was gone. Franky, alone in the darkness once again, threw back her head and howled into the nothingness.


	52. Chapter 52

Vera was done with the tears. And they came. Oh they came. In streaming sheets of saltwater they poured from her eyes. Her small frame had been utterly shaken with the force of them.

After lock down and the count there had been two entire units missing. C4 and H2. When the alarms had finally been shut off, another blared almost immediately. A quick look at the black box on her desk indicated where it was coming from. The kitchens. Vera's anxiety level hit the roof. She had been at her limit even before Will's desperate voice boomed into all of their radios.

Officer needs assistance in the kitchen…NOW!

Vera had gone running. The scene before her had been her worst nightmare from the second both Franky and Bridget had left her office as a pair of inmates. Ferguson. Gambaro's crew. Franky and Bridget. So much blood! She had looked at Will, kneeling before her two favorite inmates, clinging to a life that was rapidly being lost. Vera had remained frozen, watching her friend bleed to death. She hadn't known what to do. Absolutely in no part of her training had she been taught to watch a friend die. Thankfully Will had seen her face; her petrified stance, and in the notable absence of Jake he'd taken command. When he had barked orders, action was taken quickly.

Franky was removed to medical, and Bridget was raced from the prison to the hospital directly. There was no stopping in medical for her. There wasn't time, and from the looks of her there might never be enough time. Vera had moved to go with her but Will stopped her.

"Send Linda. I need you in your office. Send for a CCTV technician."

Ferguson, however unconscious, and the rest of C4 were slotted. An officer went to retrieve Jake, who had been unable to walk out on his own. Apparently, his penis had been broken. He had been cuffed upon Will's command and moved to medical. He was under guard at all times and separated from Franky. Other inmates, the lesser of the riot injuries, had been shuffled back to their units to make room.

Vera heard about Jake and again moved, but Will had firmly taken her arm.

Office, Vera. Please.

And there he had lain it all out. He was a bloody and exhausted mess, but he stood before her and recalled in detail what had transpired in the moments before and the moments after the riot.

She'd watched the footage. Jake had been either careless or sloppy or both. He hadn't shifted any cameras. No doubt he had been so sure of his success that he figured he'd wipe the CCTV footage later.

But, as Vera watched him crush Franky into a wall and punch her, he apparently didn't count on just who he was about to tangle with.

She watched Will take Franky from him on the little, soundless, black and white screen. Cut to the inner halls. There Jake had been, dragging Bridget to the kitchens and handing her off to Ferguson. There he was again, running headlong for the slots. For Franky.

She'd clapped a hand over her mouth when she watched the fight between Franky and Jake. She watched Franky's head hit the concrete. She watched Jake dump her onto the bed and…Vera felt bile rise in her throat...assault her. She watched her vomit him off of her. She saw Will knock him to the floor. She watched Franky kick him so hard that she broke him.

Vera had turned her head and vomited into her waste bin. Will had sent the tech away and had left her alone. He didn't go far. He leaned against her closed office door and waited, listening to the gut wrenching wails of her broken heart.

But that was then. This was now. Her face was set as if in stone. She called Will's name. She knew he was right outside her door.

"Governor?" His voice was gentle. Hers was not.

"Call the authorities and get that filth out of my prison. Arrest him."

Will nodded. Vera wasn't finished. "C4 will remain slotted for now. All of them."

Will nodded again. As he turned to leave Vera straightened her uniform and gave him one final task. "Have an officer escort Lucy Gambaro to my office."

…

Franky woke up, confused and frightened. Liz had been dozing at her side. She reacted to Franky's jolt by standing and taking her hand.

"Hey love, welcome back!"

Franky flopped back onto her pillow and winced at the contact. There was quite a knot back there. As her mind cleared itself of sleep, memories came flooding in. She simply clutched Liz's hand for a moment while her brain and body adjusted to the onslaught of information. It proved a bit much and she leaned her head over the side of the bed to vomit into the bucket Liz was already holding for her. The older woman frowned with concern.

"The nurse warned me you'd do that."

Franky groaned and wiped her mouth. Her head began to thump gently and she started to feel all the physical aches and pains her body seemed determined to show her.

The nurse came in. It was the same nurse that had handed her the ice pack today. ..yesterday? Franky realized that she had no concept of the day or time. She watched as the nurse took her blood pressure and then squinted against the bright light in her eyes. The nurse clicked her tongue.

"When I told you to come back in the morning. ..three days ago…I didn't mean for you to come back more of a bloody mess!"

Franky's eyes widened with shock. Three whole days? She looked sharply at Liz and unconsciously reached for her hand, struggling against the drugs the nurse had pumped into her veins. Liz was indignant.

"Are you knocking her out again? She only bloody woke up!"

The nurse gave her a severe look. "You have about thirty seconds before it will be pointless for you to be here." With that, the nurse turned smartly and made her exit again. Franky was still reeling from the lost time.

Three fucking days?

Franky tried to focus her eyes on Liz. There was only one name on her tongue but she bit it back. For just a few more blissful moments she wanted to remain ignorant. Instead, she barely fought the drugs infiltrating her blood stream.

"You right, Lizzy? The girls?" She whispered.

Liz squeezed her hand. She was no fool. She'd loved Franky for far too long to miss the real question. She reached out and brushed a stand of hair from Franky's forehead, searching her eyes for a reason not to tell the truth. Whatever she saw in there was enough for her to simply stroke Franky's cheek and say, "we're fine, love. Everyone's fine."


	53. Chapter 53

After Will had left her office to collect Juice, Vera pondered on the events leading up to this moment. She wasn't proud of everything she'd done, both as a woman and as a governor. But these next few events, however…dishonest. ..could redefine her as a human. There were wrongs that needed to be corrected. There were criminals who needed to be held accountable. And there were ways that she, as the head of the prison, could make things right.

There was a sharp knock on her door. Vera cleared her throat.

"Come in!"

An officer opened her door and Juice shuffled in, her hand stuffed deep into her pockets. She didn't have her usual cocky swagger. She actually looked rather ill.

Vera cleared her throat again and indicated to the chair in front of her desk. As Juice sat, Vera folded her hands. She had so much disdain for the creature in front of her. They certainly shared a history. She'd been taken hostage by Juice and her gang, and infected with Hep-C. Vera hated that they had even one thing in common.

But here she was, about to…rewrite their future in the prison together. She looked at the other woman.

"I'm assuming you will refuse to tell me what happened in the kitchen?"

Juice fidgeted in the chair and kept her mouth shut. Laggers fared worse than anyone else in the prison. Vera nodded, expecting her silence.

"Good," she said briskly. "Your silence will give you the opportunity to listen to me tell you what happened."

Juice raised her eyebrows and leaned forward slightly. She was listening. The one good thing about corrupt people is that you could always bank on them to be corrupt. "And what's in this for me, going along with this tale you're about to spin?"

Vera smiled coldly. "I believe you'll find it to be the actual truth."

Juice smirked at her. She knew when she was needed. She knew when the gold was being offered. Vera barely kept the contempt from flashing across her face.

"Ms. Westfall is my best friend." She said softly. Juice missed the danger in her inflection.

"So what's in it for you?" Vera leaned forward. "You see the truth in my version and I won't have you murdered."

Juice laughed once, and then snapped her mouth shut again. She wasn't all that bright, but it didn't take a genius to know that the tiny, powerful woman in front of her was not kidding. Juice widened her eyes and sat back, knowing full well that her options ranged from shit-house to cluster-fuck. After staring at Vera a moment, she nodded.

Vera also sat back. "It's clear to me that you and your crew were following specific orders from Ferguson. When you realized what she wanted you to do to Ms. Westfall, you had…a change of heart. ..knowing full well that Ms. Westfall has only ever been an advocate for you women."

She paused, letting her words sink in. She waited until the thick woman before her nodded for her to continue.

"When you declined, Ferguson became enraged, took the knife, and attempted Bridget's life herself."

Juice huffed at her. "You want me to go against the Freak, you better do better than threaten me with just murder."

Vera raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't threatening you, Gambaro, I was stating a fact. This is your truth, and what you will pound into the skulls of your crew, and I will not arrange for each and every one of you to be murdered one…by…one." She tapped a finger on her desk for emphasis. "And believe me, no one will mourn the loss."

Juice blinked at her. Vinegar tits had grown some huge balls. ..or she was at her wits end. Juice knew a little something about desperation. Kittens become lions when they are tapped into corners. She eyed Vera. This little kitten had already made the transformation. She shifted in her seat again.

"Say I think that sounds like how it went down. What's to stop the Freak from doing the same to me as what you'd do?"

Vera heard the slight whine for help. She coolly crossed she arms. "You all will be released from the slot without further repercussion. Ferguson will remain slotted until she is transferred…permanently…to a psych institution."

When Juice had agreed to the terms and had gotten up to leave, Vera called to her. "If Ms. Westfall dies, Gambaro, I'll consider that your decline of my offer."

Juice turned white, and fairly flew from the her office.

…

When Gambaro left, Vera called for Will. She helped him. ..revise… his statement as well. Neither of them considered it optional. There was neither guilt nor shame as they huddled over Vera's desk, inches apart, whispering.

...

Vera sat in the semi soft green hospital chair and waited for Bridget to wake up. She hated hospitals, but once she'd gotten the call that Bridget was going to live and had been moved to her own room, Vera came. When she came to Bridget's room, she excused the officer posted outside the door. He'd gratefully stood and stretched, nodded respectfully to her, and headed for the cafeteria.

Vera folded her hands nervously as she looked at the pale skin and IV tube trailing down fluids and medicine into Bridget's veins. She eyed the clean bandage that encompassed her entire forearm. She watched her chest steadily rise and fall in her peaceful sedation. Vera frowned and her brows wrinkled in consternation. Bridget had been in surgery for hours. She'd hit an artery, and with her nursing background, Vera knew that Bridget had been playing for keeps. She'd known what was going to happen to her and Franky. Her extreme solution had certainly kept the other women at bay. According to Will they were positively fleeing from the grotesque scene.

There had been no guarantees as they rushed her to the ER. Bridget had been in the ICU for over a day. She'd had multiple blood transfusions to replace the hideous loss she'd left on the kitchen floor.

The doctor had made it very clear that Bridget might not wake up during Vera's visit, but Vera was determined to stay. She wanted to be the first person to talk to Bridget. She folded her hands across her lap and waited.

They needed to collaborate stories.


	54. Chapter 54

Bridget's eyes fluttered. She made a groggy noise that alerted Vera to her consciousness. Vera came to her bedside and took her hand.

"Franky. ..?"

Vera's heart constricted. There were only so many rules she could discreetly break, and smuggling in a prisoner to see her lover in the hospital wasn't one of them. She patted Bridget's hand.

"It's Vera, Bridget. Franky's safe."

Bridget opened her eyes. Her pupils were still dilated from her sedation. "Can I see her?"

Vera's heart ached, reminding her once again that she would never find a love like this. However close she came, either her demons, or, in her most recent situation, their demons, would inevitably cause her to remain alone. She sighed against her own inner torment and focused on the task at hand.

"As soon as we get back to Wentworth."

Bridget was becoming fully awake and aware of her surroundings. "We aren't in medical?"

Vera laughed once. "Bridget you almost died! What were you thinking?"

Bridget sighed and closed her eyes again. "I wasn't." She said softly. "Vera, you didn't see them…you didn't see. .."

Her eyes flew open and she grabbed for Vera. "Jake! Jake and Ferguson and drugs!" She blurted suddenly.

Vera clenched her teeth and nodded stiffly. "He's been arrested. As for Ferguson. ..she tried to kill you."

Bridget shook her head. "She just stood there, Vera. Watching."

She touched her throat and Vera automatically handed her the glass of water that was sitting on her bedside table. She helped Bridget lift her head and shoulders so she could drink. Her mind flashed quickly to the many times she'd done the same thing for her mother. Only this time, instead of getting water spat back in her face for being too warm, the woman she was helping smiled gratefully. Vera took the cup and set it back on the table.

"She wasn't just watching, Bridget. She took the knife and tried to kill you."

She looked hard at the other woman. She could tell that Bridget's groggy mind was trying to recall the details of the events that transpired in the kitchen.

Vera cleared her throat and squeezed Bridget's hand. "Franky came to help you but she'd had a concussion and lost consciousness, right?"

Bridget frowned and nodded, her memory clearing. "She was covered in blood!" Her blue eyes grew large with sudden concern. "Vera. ..?"

"I promise you, she's alive and is recovering. I promise you."

"But what. ..?"

Vera tightened her grip on Bridget for a moment. "Jake attacked her in the slot. She…fought him, and Will came to her rescue." She paused and couldn't meet Bridget's horrified stare anymore. "Will might have saved her life. Linda told me she'd been slotted, and then the riot happened. .." She trailed off miserably, not able to shake the image of Jake on top of Franky from her mind.

Bridget still looked at her, gradually filling in the blanks. "Jake brought me to the kitchen. Ferguson told him to go to the slot for unfinished business." She said, matter of factly.

So he had gone for Franky. To hurt her. ..to kill her maybe? That was Ferguson's master plan? To murder them both? Bridget rubbed a hand over her eyes. Ferguson would have seen that as justice, most likely. But who the fuck knew what that monster was thinking? And how on earth had Franky known she was in the kitchen? And Will…! She owed that man big. Quite honestly, they all did. She rubbed her eyes again.

As Vera watched her process, she shook her head. Her eyes stung with unshed tears. "I had no idea. I had no idea who Jake really was."

Bridget was compassionate. She couldn't blame Vera for being fooled. Jake had fooled them all. She couldn't be angry with Vera for opening her heart up to him. He had a naturally believable signature in his actions and tone. He was the worst kind of man. A wolf in sheep's clothing. His type was the worst! Beyond corrupt and easily manipulated by a mind more twisted than his own. Bridget wondered just how long Jake had been in Ferguson's pocket. She glanced at Vera's clearly distraught face. She could only imagine the guilt Vera must be feeling. She must be waiting to be berated, to be accused of knowing all along who Jake was. She wasn't looking at Bridget, shame mottling her features. Bridget's brow crinkled again as more memories flooded in. She deliberately continued the dialog, carefully keeping her voice level. The only way to assure Vera that she was not to blame was to move away from the topic of Jake as if his role hardly mattered. They could break open a case of wine about it later.

"When Franky fainted I thought she might be dead. ..or dying." Bridget continued. "There was so much blood on her! Juice and the other women moved in so I…I didn't think. I just took the knife and…"

Vera shot her a quick flash of gratitude before cutting her off firmly. "Ferguson took the knife, Bridget. Juice's crew had a…change of heart. ..and Ferguson became enraged and took the knife from you. She cut you. She tried to kill you."

Bridget wasn't stupid. Even with a foggy mind she knew what Vera was telling her wasn't the truth. She knew this because cutting into her own arm had been the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life. It was a deliberate choice to shock her attackers into fleeing. She'd purposely dug for the artery to spray her blood all over them. There were always limits to a person's readiness for violence, and Bridget knew Juice and her crew weren't going to fuck a dying woman. Especially one whose blood was spurting out everywhere in alarming amounts. It was also a calculated move to save Franky's life, and if her lover was already dead, well, then Bridget didn't want to live anymore.

"Vera. .."

Vera leaned over and looked hard into Bridget's face. "Both Will and Gambaro's crew will testify to the fact that it was Ferguson who tried to kill you." She straightened up casually. "If you want, I can talk to Franky as well. What would you like to bet she'll say she was conscious and saw the whole thing?"

Bridget blew out a breath. "You wouldn't."

Vera shrugged and gave her a knowing smile. "Try me," she challenged.

Bridget saw the rigid determination on the little woman's face. Vera had a hardness about her that Bridget had never seen. "You've been busy." She said quietly.

"I thought I'd just watched my best friend die." Vera shot back.

Bridget saw that Vera was barely holding back her tears. She reached out and Vera let herself be pulled into an awkward, hospital bed hug. At last she let herself cry. The last three days. ..the last three months had been a monument to anxiety. There were no words to describe the level of panic, fear, frustration, heart ache, and depression she'd felt. She simply held onto her very much alive friend and wept, desperately trying to allow joy, victory, and pure relief overpower anything else.

"Will it work?" Bridget asked into Vera's neck. "Will it be enough to send her away for good? Can we do this?"

Vera pulled back, her eyes darkening with her resolve. "We can, and will. It had better work. Bridget," she looked at her friend, clearing her throat. "Your remand is over. Your court date is next week."


	55. Chapter 55

When Vera at last brought Bridget back to H2, everyone was waiting. Lock down had commenced over an hour ago, but all the women sat at the table, drinking tea and talking quietly. Waiting for what seemed an eternity for the last inmate in their unit to be returned to them. The very air was incomplete as they waited.

Franky bounced her knee until Allie finally and firmly rested her hand on Franky's leg. Liz got up to make her another cup of tea.

Franky had been beside herself when she had awoken for the second time in the medical wing. As her memories flooded her mind once more she demanded that Liz tell her everything. Ignorance wasn't as blissful as they say. She was fairly crawling out of her skin to get answers.

Thankfully, Vera had called Will from the hospital and had him inform Liz that Bridget was alive and would be returning to the prison that night. Liz had been permitted to stay with Franky until she awoke, and was able to calmly relay the events in Franky's mental absence.

Franky listened with an agitated heart as Liz told her that Bridget was alive and well, but when she pressed the older woman, Liz faltered. When she was finally able to tell Franky just what Bridget had done to avoid Juice and her crew, she wasn't quick enough with the bucket.

Franky's vomit splattered the floor as Liz leaped back. The nurse had come running, and it took them and another officer to calm Franky down and assure her that Bridget was indeed alive. Finally it was Will who convinced her. He hadn't been far and knew she'd need help wrapping her mind around what had happened when she regained consciousness. His calm voice told her to get up, get dressed and go back to her unit.

"And see for yourself, Franky. She's being released from the hospital now."

They all had barely enough time to turn away to preserve her dignity as she launched herself out of bed and tore off the medical gown, already grabbing for her clothes.

Once back amongst her girls, time stalled. Franky head pounded relentlessly as she paced and fiddled with everything. She refused to be still until the other women, slightly exasperated, silently agreed to make her sit and have tea with them.

And then, finally, there Bridget was, waiting to be let into the unit. She looked rather pale and more exhausted than Franky had ever seen her. Vera had escorted Bridget herself, and once the bars had been pulled aside she stepped quickly out of Franky's way. She had no desire to be knocked over in front of the other women by the flying brunette.

Franky and Bridget had reached for each other simultaneously, and then both had frozen at the sight of the other, their arms held out in mid air. After a flurry of facial expressions that only lovers could understand, they both dropped their arms to their sides. Franky moved aside and let the other women surround Bridget. She mouthed a thank you to Vera as the governor made her exit and dragged the bars back in place.

It was a long while before anyone wanted to go to bed. But after abridged versions of the last few days were shared, they gradually left the common room, one by one, and left Franky and Bridget alone.

After the last cell door closed, Bridget went purposefully to Franky's cell and disappeared inside. With a slight hesitation, Franky padded after her. When she closed the cell door behind her, Bridget was in her arms, at long last filling the empty space between them. They hadn't been able to do this in the common room because neither would have let go, and the waiting women had deserved time and Bridget's full attention.

But now, Franky held her and they both quaked against the torrent of emotions neither had had the time to process.

Franky let her tears fall. She buried her face in Bridget's hair, breathing her in, still not believing she was alive. "I thought I'd lost ya!"

Bridget couldn't speak yet. She just held Franky around her waist almost unbearably tight. They stood there in the middle of the tiny room for an augmented eternity until Bridget finally pulled back slightly, still clutching Franky's waist. She took in the atrocious bruising on her love's face. Her blackened eyes, her swollen nose. Her split lip. And those were just what she could see. Whatever Jake had done to her, he'd been brutal.

"Oh Franky. .." She whispered as she reached up to touch the brunette's face. "Oh baby…" Her own tears fell now as she traced each bruise; each bit of damaged that marred her favorite face. "What did he do to you?"

Instead of answering, Franky put her hand lightly over the white bandage on Bridget's forearm, her mind still on what had transpired in the kitchen. She looked down at the bandage and watched as one of her tears fell on the clean surface. "I couldn't save ya, Gidge. I tried, God I tried. .."

Bridget pulled her in again and held her, desperately seeking to stop that train of thought.

"I know, baby. I know. You were…" she laughed lightly. .."frightening."

Franky shook her head against the blonde hair and Bridget could tell she was rapidly shouldering all of the blame.

"When you fainted I thought you were dead." She hugged Franky even closer, if that was possible. She took a deep breath and knew she needed to tell Franky as much as she could now, before the nightmares began. She needed Franky to know. ..to understand. It was the only way to remove the power from this most haunting new memory. "Before you came I was holding them off, but there were too many of them. They were going to. ..gang me…right there in front of Ferguson."

Franky's arms spasmed and her sudden powerful grip on Bridget took the blonde's breath away. There was a calming validation in Franky's anger that soothed Bridget's pounding heart. Saying the words had already made her feel ill. She gratefully rubbed Franky's back until her anger had subsided and Bridget could breathe again.

"When you came through those kitched doors," she continued, "you reminded me once again that any act of bravery, however short lived, would cause those cowards to stumble."

Bridget huffed gently, resting her head against Franky's chest. "Swinging a broom at them made them laugh. They mocked me. It was you that made them afraid."

Franky huffed back at her. "The knife made them afraid."

Bridget shook her head, and breathed in Franky's scent to calm her own heart. "The knife you ripped free from a steel chain. No my love, it wasn't the knife. It was the one who wielded it. Even Ferguson backed away."

"Maybe for a second. She knew I was done for." Her apology was on her tongue but Bridget spoke over her, not allowing it.

"That second was all I needed. I thought you were dying, or dead. Juice wanted you first. The other women reached for me. I didn't think. I just. .."

Franky's eyes stung again with fresh tears. "Jesus, Gidge!" She held Bridget at arms length. She could see plainly the sadness and trauma on her lover's face, knowing what she'd almost done. She had thought Franky was dead and about to be horribly violated in front of her. Three other women were reaching for her. Of course she'd done what she had. Of course she would choose death over being raped…again…by multiple attackers. Humiliated at Ferguson's feet. If she were honest with herself, Franky would have probably cut her own throat to avoid going through that if their rolls had been reversed. Although, she may have at least taken one or two with her. ..

She gazed into Bridget's beautiful, endless blue eyes and felt her heart swell with pride. Her Gidget was a tender soul, and even in the midst of so much violence and evil. ..she would do no harm to them. It simply wasn't in her nature. She had chosen to hurt herself rather than injure any of the other women. She shook her head in disbelief. "You're too good for this world." She tightened her grip on Bridget's shoulders. "But I need you in it, so no more knives, yeah?"

Bridget smiled, her exhaustion and relief caused her shoulders to sag. The mighty burden of the previous days moments lifting slightly. She blew out a breath. When she looked at Franky again, she winced at her awful bruising. "What happened in the slot?"

Franky let go of her shoulders and took the step it took to get to the bed. As she moved the covers aside she said over her shoulder, "that prick just beat me up, is all. Mr. Jackson got there pretty quick."

Bridget looked at her back as she shuffled around the covers. That's what Vera had said. She could easily see that there was a stiffness to the woman in front of her. Vera had also told her that Jake had a broken penis, a phenomenon that simply didn't happen if one was flaccid. He had done more than what Franky was telling her, and Vera clammed up after that accidental disclosure. Too lost in her own shame to continue. Bridget reached out a hand to stop Franky. She was ripping the bed apart. "Hey. ..what is it?"

Franky shrugged. "I'm good." She gave Bridget a false smile. "Come on. I know your tired. I'm buggered!"

Bridget held her gaze for a moment longer. Something in Franky's expression had darkened. She wasn't going to force Franky to talk to her. The brunette didn't respond well to hounding, and would often lock everything inside. Her façade was so strong that it took months of living with her to read her without forcing conversion. It certainly didn't take a degree in psychology to know that whatever Jake had done to her then was still agitating her now. And that in itself was saying something. Franky had been through a lot.

"Franky, do you need to be alone tonight?"

The question took Franky of guard. That was a first. Never, in the months together had they ever once declared that they needed the couch, or the spare room. They had such a powerful draw to each other it never even occurred to them. It had never needed to be an option. Even now, with separate cells, they couldn't bear to be apart.

Franky straightened up slowly, feeling her heart rate quicken. Bridget hadn't come in here to sleep. She came to talk. She knew what Bridget was really asking, and the psychologist in her had asked it in such a way that Franky was forced to pay attention. Bridget wasn't stupid.

Franky couldn't help but smile at her again. This time it touched her eyes. She'd never met her match until she met Bridget. She rubbed her eyes and turned her back to the blonde, leaning up against the windowsill. Her tone became flat as she gripped the concrete sill.

"When he pulled me from breakfast he gave me the general idea of what he wanted…what Ferguson wanted. Mr. Jackson met us in the hallway. He made Jake hand me over, and took me to the slot himself."

Bridget sat quietly on the bed and leaned against the wall, just listening. When Franky realized her pauses would go uninterrupted she nodded, almost to herself. Bridget was a good listener.

"He didn't want to slot me, but the alarm sounded and their radios went crazy with the riot. He brought me to the slot and said he'd come get me out when everything settled down. That he would talk to Jake."

Franky laughed humorlessly, and shrugged again. "Jake beat him to me." She began to pick at the peeling bits of the sill. She didn't like talking about shit that had happened to her. She didn't like reliving it while she was asleep, much less while she was awake too. She was used to horrible things. First her childhood, then prison life. Shit happened to her. A shit magnet she thought to herself.

She looked over her shoulder at Bridget, who was sitting on the bed with her back against the wall. Her eyes were closed. It was as much privacy as Franky could ask for without Bridget leaving her alone. She turned back to the sill. "Ferguson had pretty strict instructions for him, I guess. He bashed my head into the floor and knocked me out. He woke me up to tell me what Ferguson wanted him to say. He said that I needed to know what he was about to do."

She looked back at Bridget again. Was she still awake? "Gidge?" She asked softly.

Bridget opened her eyes immediately. "I'm here, baby."

Damn. Franky looked away again. "He told me that I was alone, and not able to save myself. That no one would come for me."

She felt her eyes sting with angry tears. "I felt like my head was split open. I could barely move."

She looked at Bridget now. The blue eyes were wide, and fixed on her own. "He didn't. ..he just roughed me up a bit. I threw up on him."

Bridget's eyebrows shot up. "The concussion." She said.

"I guess. Guess I wasn't all that appealing after. He got up, Mr. Jackson came in and bashed his face. I kicked him and we came back to the unit. That's when we realized that you were missing."

Bridget nodded slowly. She knew the rest. She got off the bed and held out a hand. Franky came to her and Bridget hugged her hard.

"I'm proud of you, Franky."

Franky huffed. "All I did was throw up on him." She kissed the top of Bridget's head, grinning through her unshed tears. "Maybe you'll remember that next time you're backed into a corner, yeah?"

Bridget smiled into her. "I'll keep that in mind, my love."


	56. Chapter 56

Vera walked away from H2 with sure steps. She had one last thing to do. ..and she was looking forward to it. She went into her office and collected a folder that she had attached in a locked drawer. This was it. Lucy and her crew had been removed from solitary a day earlier, when Vera was certain that Bridget would live. She had gathered the motley crew in her office briefly, and then sent them scurrying away. They had gotten off easy, and they knew it.

Vera had explained in detail what she had done with Bridget on their ride back from the hospital. The other woman was too spent to argue the ethics of the whole thing. Vera had capitalized on her exhaustion, and before they had reached the prison, Bridget was nodding her consent.

On her way to the slots she met an officer patrolling the halls. "Walk with me." She said briskly.

"Yes, Governor."

"Bring Ferguson to interrogation room 1. And radio Mr. Jackson to meet us there."

The officer nodded smartly and hurried off. Vera went into the interrogation room and sat at the desk, her hands folded neatly across the folder in front of her. Her heart rate was normal. Her hands were steady. This was it.

Will arrived first, and when he entered he stood unobtrusively at Vera's side. "She's going to fight back." He said.

Vera looked up at him, unconcerned. "She has nothing. Let her weave her lies. She's doesn't have a leg to stand on. "

When the officer knocked on the door and brought Ferguson in, her black eyes took in the faces waiting for her. Vera saw with a certain satisfaction that Ferguson sported an ugly knot on her jaw. After a cool stare at Will, she took the seat opposite of Vera.

She casually brushed a stand of hair behind her ears. "Is this really necessary? I've been in isolation for three days now. I think I've served my time accordingly even though I've done nothing wrong. Perhaps I can go back to my unit now." It wasn't a question. She still thought she had the upper hand. "I was most curious to see Gambaro's crew be released?"

Vera leaned forward, indicating the room they were in. It was just a bit larger than the slot. "I thought you would've appreciated my allowing you to stretch your legs." She laughed once. "And why would I let you go back to your unit? You almost had two inmates killed!"

Ferguson met her stare. "I've done nothing wrong. If anything, I'm the victim…"

"You're no victim." Vera interrupted.

"…here." Ferguson continued. "And rest assured I will be pressing charges against Mr. Jackson, for his assault, and you for your incompetence. One of your officers attacked me...unprovoked."

She threw another cool look at Will. He only gave her the smallest of smiles. Ferguson narrowed her eyes when Vera cleared her throat.

"Why don't you tell me what happened? Wow me with your truth. Here's your chance. What were you doing in the kitchen?"

Ferguson stared at her with her dead pan expression. "I was on kitchen duty. I was going to head back to my cell when the alarm sounded."

Vera cut in. "You were in the yard when the riot happened. I've a dozen eye witnesses. Next lie."

Ferguson continued as if Vera hadn't spoken. "Before I could return to my unit, Gambaro and her crew came in with Ms. Westfall. I naturally assumed their intentions were severe."

She cocked her head at Vera. "And how is. ..Ms. Westfall?"

Vera didn't even blink. "She's made a full recovery."

"So. ..happy to hear that." It was clear she wasn't. She leaned back in her chair. The sociopath within loved to be the center of their attention. She couldn't help but continue her monolog.

"Ms. Westfall was backed into a corner when Doyle arrived. She. .succumbed to her apparent injuries, and fainted." She gave Vera another sure smile. "So many unexplained injuries! I'm sure the Ombudsman can't wait to get his hands on an investigation?"

She was fishing, and Vera wasn't fooled. "Continue."

Ferguson stared at her for a short moment before she shrugged. "I tried to tell Gambaro to leave, but she refused. Her kind is so…barbaric. This wouldn't be the first time they. ..cornered a frail little woman."

She flashed Vera another small smile, and Vera flashed one right back. "No, it wouldn't be, would it?"

Ferguson's knuckles whitened against the table and she continued, uncharacteristically taken aback by Vera's attitude. "Gambaro went for Doyle, and her crew went after Ms. Westfall. There was nothing. ..that I could do." She sighed as if she regretted her helplessness. "The next thing I knew, Ms. Westfall was bleeding everywhere and Mr. Jackson...punched me…a defenseless woman. ..in the face. Speaking of barbarians…"

She sighed again. "And now I'm here being questioned by you as if I'm some kind of criminal." She flicked lint off of her sleeve as Vera sat back.

"Wow… that is a very convincing story." The sarcasm was evident.

Ferguson raised her brows slightly. "I, too, am constantly amazed by what weaker women resort to. Ms. Westfall was convinced that we were all there to hurt her so she took the kitchen knife and sliced her own arm. Frankly, she was completely rattled. She saw poor Doyle on the floor and she just… snapped. Poor thing." She leaned forward again. "The stress of her tainted reputation, being inside this place, seeing her lover on the floor like that… motionless…some people just aren't strong enough,... are they, Vera?" Ferguson smiled again, moving in. "The pressure just builds and builds, doesn't it? They don't know whom they can turn to or who to trust. Then they just… decide to take matters into their own hands. Like you? Isn't that right, Vera? You just snapped and had to take matters into your own hands when you killed your own mother." She appraised Vera. "No one would blame you. She was a horrible woman. The pressure of her abuse became too much for you and you had to…solve your own problem. Ms. Westfall, too, couldn't take the pressure, unfortunately, and tried to take her life. The weak always resort to the weakest way out."

Vera clenched her jaw momentarily, but then relaxed. She tapped the folder on her desk before opening it. Ferguson's eyes became curious. She watched as Vera pulled out five sheets of paper and lay them on the table.

"And what are those?"

"These…" Vera consciously arranged the documents neatly and with great care. Ferguson was paying attention. "...are signed and notarized witness accounts of what really happened in the kitchen. All of them state that you are responsible."

She allowed Ferguson to take one of the documents and scan it with her beady black eyes. Vera watched as she furiously processed the shifting tide beneath her feet. It was Vera that leaned in now.

"As you can see. ..you ordered Gambaro and her crew to assault Doyle and Ms. Westfall, but when they had a change of heart, you took the knife. You attacked Ms. Westfall. Officer Jackson came…almost too late, and used the appropriate force to restrain you to protect Ms. Westfall and Doyle."

Ferguson had been reading one of the documents. At last she carefully placed it down. Vera had been circling her, and swooped in as soon as Ferguson looked up again.

"You've been charged with conspiracy to commit murder and attempted murder. You will remain in isolation until your hearing and then be transferred to a psychiatric facility… where you…hopefully... will rot for the rest of your life."

Ferguson was a statue. Vera could see the rage behind her blank expression. When she finally spoke, Vera was suddenly grateful that Will was a silent presence beside her.

"Well, you've just got it all figured out don't you?" Her tone was dangerously low. She glared at Vera. "You think you've won this game? It's only just beginning. You think you have power with that gold crown on your shoulder and giving orders."

Her slight laugh was mirthless. "No. No…no…no, Vera. Real power isn't moving the pieces yourself, it is when all the pieces move for you." She scoffed at her. "You have no real power in here." Her voice dripped with contempt. "And the staff? You think they follow you because they respect you? No. They pity you."

And Jake? You think Jake loves you? Are you in love with him, Vera? Who do you think told him to...fuck you? And to think it didn't take much. You were opening your legs before he could put that pathetic excuse for charm to good use. You're a pawn. You've always been a pawn. You're weak; worthless…" She rested her hands suddenly on the table and leaned forward, baring her teeth. "You don't run this prison. I do."

Vera actually smiled. How had she ever been afraid of this woman? If that was the best Ferguson could do, she was rather disappointed. Either that, or Vera herself had altered so much in the last year she barely recognized her own cool demeanor. She put another formal document in front of Ferguson, completely ignoring the last threat laden statement.

"This is a confession statement from ex-officer Jake Stewart who was recently transferred to Walford Prison several days ago under remand. He's cut a deal with the prosecution and has confessed in...excruciating written detail...what he's been doing under your…employment. He made sure to give us every detail on how you manipulated him to murder Niles Jasper, and how he was told to make Franky Doyle… scream." She took the statement out of Ferguson's hand and pulled out the last sheet of paper.

"And this… is a resignation letter from your lawyer. She has stated that she can no longer represent you in good conscience. You are welcome to try for another defense lawyer but might not have any luck after Doyle makes a few calls. You did know, didn't you? That between her and Ms. Westfall, they know the entire legal staff this side of the river?"

She stood, and gathered the paperwork together again. She turned to Will. "Slot her until her trial. She has proven to be both a physical and mental that to both inmates and officers."

As Ferguson stood slowly. "How does it feel, Vera, to finally know what it's like to have all the peices moving for you?"

Vera faced her one last time. She looked up at the now less imposing monster before her.

"You are no longer playing a game. You have no more pawns. You are alone. You failed. And I will make sure you spend the rest of your miserable and twisted life in a padded cell." She turned her back on Ferguson and exited the room, holding the door open for them. As Ferguson walked by, escorted by Will, Vera whispered,

"Checkmate, you bitch."


	57. Chapter 57

Bridget awoke the second Franky stiffened in her sleep. She'd lain next to this woman long enough to know when a violent nightmare was gripping her. She carefully removed her arm from Franky's middle. This bed was way too small for them both if one of them began thrashing. Franky was sweating and beginning to twitch. Bridget squinted in the dim yellow light and gingerly climbed over Franky to get out of the bed. She sat in the chair and softly called Franky's name. The sleeping woman jerked her head against the sound of her name. Bridget called to her again.

"Franky, it's Bridget. Wake up, baby."

Franky bolted upright. Bridget was glad she had moved, and then she realized she hadn't moved far enough away. Franky came for her in a feral state, the evil in her nightmare still behind her eyes.

Bridget stood quickly as Franky reached for her throat.

"Franky!" She desperately wailed as strong hands tightened around her neck.

"Shit!" Franky started from her sleep at Bridget's fearful cry. "Shit!"

Bridget stayed plastered against the wall for a moment, willing herself to calm down. Franky backed away from her and leaned against the small desk. She was still breathing hard. "You right?"

Bridget laughed shakily. "I'm ok."

Franky put her head in her hands. "There's going to be more of those. Do you want to finish the night in your own room?"

Bridget frowned, hating this option. "No," she said firmly. "Come here."

Franky heaved herself from the desk and took two steps. Bridget reached for the hem of Franky's sweater. They had both fallen into bed fully clothed, too spent to remove anything.

Bridget eyed Franky's sweater. Laundry hadn't been able to completely remove the blood stains on it, and there were distinctly darker patches of orange on her chest. Bridget frowned as she carefully raised the sweater over Franky's head and let it drop to the ground. When she reached for the hem of her shirt, Franky caught her hands.

"Gidge…"

"Let me see," Bridget murmured.

Franky raised her arms and allowed Bridget to remove her shirt, the last barrier between her and…

Bridget inadvertently gasped. Even in the dim light she could see. Franky sighed and looked down at her own chest. Her dark green bra couldn't conceal the fact that her breasts displayed the long, dark, finger shaped bruises left by Jake's violent touch.

Bridget reached out to touch Franky's chest and Franky found herself uncharacteristically afraid. Her heart began to race. She caught Bridget's hand, her voice wavering. "No…"

Bridget understood. God she understood. "Franky," she said gently. "Let me touch you."

Franky remained still, frozen with uncertainty and that irrational fear. Her nightmare still fresh in her mind. She closed her eyes and her breathing quickened. Hands on her breasts, squeezing, jerking painfully as if the man on top of her was trying his damnedest to wrench them from her body. Her adrenaline spiked as she felt him against her, pushing into her legs… searching for her. Even over her jeans and through his pants she could feel him. His smell, his foul lips against her skin, his weight crushing her, his fucking hands…

Franky shook as she squeezed her eyes closed. She knew she was safe. She knew she was with Bridget, she knew…and yet…"

A warm hand touched her elbow. Franky jerked back and snapped open her eyes. Blackened, stormy green met clear, compassionate blue. Bridget touched her arm again. "Who's touching you, my love?"

Franky stared at her, utterly petrified. She blew out a breath, trying to calm down. She knew what was happening to her. How often had she held Bridget after one of her nightmares? "You are."

Bridget gave her an encouraging smile as she moved in closer. She slowly slid her hand up Franky's arm and rested it on her bare shoulder. "Say my name. Who's touching you?"

Franky sucked in a breath and closed her eyes again as Bridget's warm hand moved from her shoulder to the side of her neck. "Gidget." She breathed out. She knew that sensual touch, but she couldn't help but shiver unhappily.

Bridget moved her hand again, slowly down Franky's neck and rested it on her upper chest, right above the bruised, bra covered flesh. Franky's heartrate quickened even more. She breathed through her nose in distress.

Bridget stayed her hand. "Look at me, Franky."

Franky opened her eyes. Bridget traced a fingertip over the swell of the brunette's breast. "Who's touching you?"

Franky held the blue stare and fought the urge to flee the cell. "Gidget."

Bridget lifted her other hand and pressed it into Franky's side, following her curves until the fingertips of that hand, too, ghosted over the swell of her other breast. "Franky, let me touch you," she whispered again, "please, let me touch you. .."

Franky clenched her fists, hating the disgusting feeling in her stomach. She nodded, forcing herself to be vulnerable. This woman would not hurt her. She wouldn't. She tried to shake her nightmare from her mind and stay in the present.

Bridget moved her hands down a fraction, and then moved them back up to encircle Franky's neck. She drew the taller woman closer and hugged her. Franky blew out a shaky breath. "Oh that's what you meant," she teased. She couldn't keep the relief from her voice.

Bridget sighed into her collarbone. No, a hug was not what she meant to do at all, but the woman in her arms was barely being still, and the last thing Bridget wanted was for her to associate her touch with Jake's. She longed to put her hands over those dark bruises, covering them with her own fingers…making them disappear. It angered her inside who it was that hurt the most from such an attack. It wasn't the attacker. Along with the abused, it was always the loved ones who suffered. It was the loved ones left to carefully pick up the damaged fragments of the wounded, and over time piece them back together. It was because of this that she had become a criminal psych all those years ago. To stop this from happening to people and the ones they loved.

She held onto Franky until the other woman wrapped her own arms around Bridget in return. Bridget smiled. "There you are."

Franky squeezed her, trying to etch her into her memory, trying to send the image of Jake fleeing. She knew this body pressed against her. She knew its contours and lines. She knew every peak and valley. As she held onto Bridget, feeling her steady heart beat against her sternum, she felt a twinge safer. They were as secure as they could be in the moment, anyway. In her cell after lock down, surrounded by women close by who would give their lives protecting her. It was quiet now. Everyone who wished her great harm was locked firmly away in the heart of the prison. Endless tons of concrete lay between her and their evil. Jake had been removed from Wentworth altogether. He'd never touch her again.

Bridget was rocking her and humming that quiet tune that always seemed to be in her head. Franky smiled down at her, finally beginning to relax. She absentmindedly rubbed up and down Bridget's spine. She felt her warm breath in the crook of her neck. She smelled right. She smelled safe.

The horrors of her mind were quickly leaving, being replaced with softer memories. Franky smiled again as she moved her hands with more deliberation. Bridget noticed the change. She leaned back without letting go and searched Franky's face. She couldn't make out the expression in the darkness, but she was fully aware of that touch. "Are you sure?"

In answer, Franky unzipped and tugged the jacket from her shoulders. Bridget sucked in a breath as Franky leaned down and began to cover her neck with kisses. "I wanna feel you. .." she murmured between kisses. "All of you."

She raised Bridget's shirt over her head and immediately sought after her neck again. She backed them up until Bridget sat on the bed. Franky pushed her back and found her lips. There was a desperation in her kiss, an urgent desire to erase all other unwanted touch. "Gidge. ..I need you!"

Bridget didn't fight her. She let Franky take control and moved with the fiery brunette until they were both on the bed. Franky moved from her face down to her chest and shoved the bra out of her way. Bridget moaned quietly as she felt Franky's lips take her in, one nipple at a time. She squirmed underneath this body that she desperately loved, holding her closer.

Franky trailed her mouth down Bridget's stomach and her hands tugged at the blonde's pants. Bridget lifted her hips slightly and gasped as Franky tore them from her. She was frightened by her own desire, not expecting to want…to need this so soon after…oh god!

Franky's mouth was already on her, her tongue working expertly in all the right places. This wasn't going to be a slow, blissfully torturous lesson in lovemaking. This was going to be a rough, hard fuck. Bridget felt her lower abdomen tighten sporadically when Franky's mouth latched on to her tiny bundle of nerves. She reached down and gripped Franky's hair, pulling until Franky came back to her mouth, filling her with the salty taste of her own arousal.

Franky reached a hand down between them and teased around until she found what she was looking for. Bridget's breath hitched. "Franky let me touch you. ..please! Oh, god, please!"

Franky kissed her again, hard and deep and Bridget reached up and finally laid her hands on Franky's chest. Franky pulled from the kiss and groaned, a shiver running through her. Whether it was from pain or pleasure, Budget wasn't sure. But then Franky sat up and quickly ripped off her own bra. Bridget groaned as Franky fell on her again, heated skin against heated skin. When Bridget touched her breasts again Franky entered her, and the blonde bit back a deeper moan.

Bridget moved her hands, squeezing gently and covering the intrusive bruises. As Franky moved in her she cried into Bridget's neck. "I fucking hate it in here!"

She was moving quicker. Bridget let go of her and held onto her back, her fingertips digging into the olive skin. The friction of their motion threatened to ignite the air. Tears stung her eyes. "I know, baby. I know!"

As Franky cried against her neck she moved even faster; harder, and Bridget felt her inner walls begin to crumble. They were both crying now, all the stress and anxiety pouring from them and mixing messily into their love. Franky kissed everything she could reach while being smothered in Bridget's grip. "We're getting out of here." She half growled, half sobbed.

Bridget was rapidly coming to her brink. She threw back her head and clutched Franky tighter. Franky continued to push inside her. Deeper, harder. "Say it," she growled. Her tears fell on Bridget's face.

"We're…getting. ..fuck!"

Her orgasm hit her like a stout wave, and she went rigid, unable to breath, unable to think. Franky waited until she could move her hand again, and as soon as Bridget's walls released her she began a slower, calming rhythm.

Finally she removed her hand and slid it slowly up Bridget's still quivering body. She took her face in both hands and kissed her deeply, tasting their combined tears. When at last their heart rates thumped a slower beat, Franky collapsed beside Bridget. She sniffed and looked at the sated blonde, finally smiling. "We're getting. ..fuck?" She teased quietly.

Bridget wiped her eyes and felt a flush on her cheeks. She turned into Franky, smiling, her hands already beginning to move. But Franky caught them and held them still. "Just you, tonight."

"Baby. .."

But Franky pulled her into her chest and refused to let go. "Just let me hold you. I just wanna hold ya."

Bridget nodded and wrapped her body around Franky in return. She tenderly traced her idle pattern on Franky's skin. "We're getting out of here, Franky. We are."

Franky tightened her arms. With their court date set, they had work to do. But for now, in the privacy of the first morning hours, she just wanted to cling to the woman next to her. Bridget let out a satisfied sigh and felt herself sinking back into sleep. The last thing she felt were strong, safe arms around her and a light pressure as Franky kissed her forehead.

Yes, for now, everything else could wait.


	58. Chapter 58

There was hardly a sound as Bridget and Franky sat at a table in the library, each buried in a book, each lost in legal thought. It seemed the more they studied, the quicker the time went. Every now and then they'd trade books, share notes and cross examine each other. Time raced on by, with nary a thought to their increasingly frantic efforts. What was worse was it didn't really matter how carefully they prepared themselves. ..it would all be for nothing if Daniel's lawyer could convince him to alter his story. Franky bounced her knee and chewed her lip as she read through the same book again. They both knew that it all boiled down to Daniel. They had met with Mrs. Wrestler just a few days ago, and she sighed as she said the same thing. If he shouldered all the blame, they stood a chance for time served. If he changed his mind listened to his lawyer, they were both pretty screwed.

"Gidge. .."

Bridget didn't look up. She was cross referencing. "Mmm…?"

Franky kept bouncing. "Should we acknowledge the big fucking elephant in the room?"

Bridget looked up, confused. She eyed Franky's bouncing knee, noticing it for the first time. "What is it?"

"Worse case scenario. Gidge. One year for me, two for you."

Bridget looked back down at her book. The words blurred off of the page. No, she didn't want to talk about that. She didn't want to think about how their combined actions could send them back here, officially in teal. She didn't want to think of the excruciating pain that would come from being separated from Franky for a year. She didn't want to think about her tanked career if she formally became an inmate. She looked across the table and straight into green concern.

"I'll wait for ya." Franky said softly. "I'll come see ya." She miserably choked on her words. It wasn't that she didn't mean them, it was that saying them aloud made real the tremulous situation they faced. Bridget had once said those exact same words to her months before, when Franky was just recently remanded. She remembered how hopeless she'd felt then, hearing them. Like her incarceration was eminent. She didn't know how else to say it, and finally understood Bridget's frustration at the time. She'd needed to assure Franky that she would be there no matter what. Of course she'd wait. When the same words spilled out of Franky's mouth she stumbled on them. Waiting and visiting would never be enough. They needed to be together. How can you split one being into two parts and expect it to survive?

Bridget looked up at her again. "I know." She whispered. "Now stop bouncing and let me read."

Franky huffed at her and sighed. That was as close as she'd come to getting Bridget to face her fears. She peeked once at the other woman as she settled into her book again. Normally their roles were reversed, and Bridget was gently reminding her to keep herself from shutting down and to keep verbalizing her worries. This was the first time Bridget stubbornly remained opposed to any alternative to being released. They didn't have many more opportunities to talk, but Franky bit her tongue against pressing the issue. She began to read with an even greater focus.

Boomer came up and startled them. "So how's it going, hey?"

Franky didn't look up. This wasn't the first, or even the fifth time Boomer had asked this. "The same as it was fifteen minutes ago, Booms."

Boomer fidgeted. "Yeah, well, hey, come take a break. It's yard time."

Bridget looked up now as Franky blew out an impatient breath. "Booms, our trial is in two days! Go on, leave us to it."

"You've read that book like a thousand times!"

Franky was about to reply when she caught the stern look Bridget was giving her. She closed the book with a snap. "Argh. Fine. Coming, Gidge?"

Bridget looked at the officer discretely in the corner of the library. Vera had posted a guard near them at all times since the riot. It wasn't as if there had been a need. Juice and her crew had made themselves scarce, and Ferguson was still in the slot. There was no danger. Besides, Boomer was hovering so close it was frankly hard to get any alone time. Everywhere they went a guard showed up. ..and Boomer was never far behind. Bridget smiled at the words on the page she was reading. "I'll stay."

Franky sighed and stood, adding her book to the pile they'd already gone through. Boomer shuffled by her side happily as they left the library and headed for the yard.

Boomer nudged Franky as they walked. "So you're gonna get off, right?"

"I don't know, Booms. I keep getting interrupted."

An officer buzzed them into the sunlit yard and their purposeful walk slowed to a stroll. "Yeah but you got a judge defending ya, hey?"

Franky squinted in the bright light. They'd been in that library almost all week long. She bent down and picked a blade of grass and fiddled with it as they walked. "She's a real good lawyer, too. I'm hoping between the three of us we'll get out of here."

Boomer frowned. "You'll get out. You're leaving again."

Her inflection was impossibly sad. Franky smiled as she shook her head. What ever she did, no matter how reckless or crazy, Boomer had always believed she could do it. She bumped into her friend. "Yeah, ya big dufus. We're getting out. You're not far behind, yeah?"

"I still got four years left, don't I?"

Franky punched her arm lightly. "It'll fly by. I promise."

"It's better when you're here. Everything is better."

"Booms…"

"Yeah, I know, alright? I just. ..I just fucking miss ya, Franky. Maxie is gone, Dor is getting paroled…"

Boomer sniffed loudly. She hated change, especially when it was her family that did the changing.

Franky felt for her. She really did love this woman. "You still got Allie and Liz, Booms. And H2 isn't going to be empty for long. Three other women are gonna bug you before you can even miss us!"

Boomer sniffed again. "I'll probably have to bash them a few times. Newbies always wanna touch my stuff."

Franky laughed at her, punching her again. "That's the spirit, hey? Just don't let Kaz see you do it."

She winked at Boomer and the big woman finally smiled down at her. "Yeah, I'll have to be careful or the big, bad Red Right Hand might talk me to death."

Franky burst out laughing and Boomer grinned at her, pleased. She loved that laugh.


	59. Chapter 59

The judge folded his hands and shook his head in disbelief. He had officially heard it all. "In my thirty-two years on this bench. .." He began. He looked at the three people sitting before him. "A dead man, his killer, an escaped convict, and her accomplice. You all sound like the next murder mystery my wife will want me to read!"

He sighed heavily. It had been almost a comical battle between the defense and the prosecution. As the story had unfolded before him, he became less and less decided on just what to do with them. Daniel and his lawyer were clearly at odds the entire time, and as for the two women. ..the judge sighed again. They were all just as innocent as they were guilty. It would be left up to him to, well, be the judge.

"Mr. Anders."

Daniel stood and glanced at Franky and Bridget. He smiled sadly. He'd done everything he'd promised he'd do, and shouldered every ounce of blame to be had. They hadn't expected him to, in truth. Why would he? Franky bounced her knee as the judge pulled Daniel's file in front of him. She desperately wanted a good outcome for him. Daniel shifted nervously on his feet.

"Yes, Your Honor."

The judge sighed. "I'm not completely satisfied with your testimony, but since the only other eye witnesses to this baffling case are sitting over there and in full agreement with you, I'm forced to reckon with what you've told me."

"Yes, Your Honor."

The judge removed his glasses as he peered over the edge of his bench.

"That being said, I am deeply troubled by the questionable ethics of your chosen profession. Quite frankly you were simply a criminal that had not been caught yet."

Daniel looked down, and the judge continued. "You needed to be here today for testimony concerning Ms. Doyle and Ms. Westfall. I'm certainly not ready to cast judgement on you yet, sir. Bailiff? Remand this man until further notice."

Daniel looked up sharply as the Bailiff approached him. "Wait, what?" His lawyer moved aside as he was once again cuffed. "What?"

His confusion was heartbreaking. Both Bridget and Mrs. Wrestler firmly gripped Franky's arms under the table. She wasn't going to do anything, but one never knew with Franky when her sense of justice was piqued. But she was just as troubled as they were, and could only watch in shock as Daniel was led away. Once Daniel was removed, the court became quiet once again.

"Ms. Doyle."

Franky stiffened, and then rose, gently shaking off the hands holding her. "Your Honor?"

The judge looked at her severely over his glasses. He took in the bruising around her eyes and shook his head. Everything that had been done to this woman was in the file underneath his folded hands. "I'm having a hard time with you escaping a maximum facility prison to prove your innocence. You were very lucky that you came to the truth, young lady."

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Humph. In light of the most recent and…unfortunate…events that transpired in the prison, can we safety say, Ms. Doyle, that there are no other persons seeking to kill you?"

Franky actually smiled at him. "I hope not, Your Honor."

"Well it looks like the law is finally working in your favor. Six months of community service for breaking and entering. Time previously served for the false imprisonment and it's subsequent…happenings. You will, in great detail, explain the how of your escape to the Governor of Wentworth, so that no future attempts of that kind can be made. Your parole begins, now, Ms. Doyle. See that is the last one, please."

Franky slowly sat, unable to process what had just happened. Did she just…was she…Bridget's hand found hers under the table and Franky clutched it. Holy fuck!

The judge pushed Franky's file aside and at last reached for Bridget's. He was quiet a long time. Finally, he looked up.

"Ms. Westfall."

Bridget took a breath and stood. She'd testified in front of this judge hundreds of times. He and his wife had had her over for dinner. She found she could barely look at him. He was frowning.

"When I heard you were a part of this madness I was relieved, thinking that some sense was finally being brought into this case." He continued to frown. "And then I became privy to the details of your involvement."

He paused, and the judge's stern expression softened when their eyes met. "You know the list is long, Bridget. We don't have to go over it again. Because your testimony collaborates with both Ms. Doyle's and Mr. Anders', I'm finding it rather difficult to sentence you. You most certainly, as I know you will agree, crossed several legal lines."

Bridget gave him a sad smile. It's ok, Josh. Do what you need to do.

The judge pushed her thin file away from him. This was one of the hardest sentencing he'd ever had to do. He'd always held Bridget in the highest esteem. He had always respected her, and genuinely liked her. His wife was going to kill him.

"Two years, Ms. Westfall."

Franky closed her eyes. Bridget felt faint, and had she not been holding onto the table in front of her, she may have collapsed.

The judge wasn't finished. "This feeling you have now? Remember it if you ever happen upon these circumstances again!

No, Ms. Westfall. Three months, including time already served is one more month at Wentworth. Six months of community service, and one year parole."

He banged his gavel sharply. "And I never want to see you on that side of the bench ever again. Now get the hell out of my courtroom! Bailiff!"

Bridget turned quickly into Franky's arms. One month. Just thirty more days. "I want a hot girl in a hot car waiting for me!" She whispered hurriedly.

Franky could barely let her go. "You're on. Don't you put on the teal! Just. ..you come back to me!"

Before she knew what was happening, Bridget was pulled from her arms and Mrs. Wrestler was leading her out of the courtroom.


	60. Chapter 60

Franky was scrubbing their large soup pot again. It was the same one Bridget had used to coax a confession out of Daniel. Bridget didn't know if it was subconscious or not, but she noticed that Franky never seemed quite satisfied that it was fully cleaned. She would finish the dishes, then pull out the soup pot from under the counter and scrub it obsessively. Sometimes for minutes at a time.

Bridget had never acknowledged this new tic of hers. She gathered over the months of observation that Franky attacked the pot whenever Wentworth wormed its way into their lives again. Whatever the news, Franky would inevitably reach for that damn pot by the end of the night. Liz getting an early parole…soup pot...Vera retiring as governor and handing the reins over to Will…soup pot. Boomer mysteriously becoming pregnant. ..soup pot again. There were other, darker moments as well, that would trigger this desire to punish the smooth metal surface. Daniel's sentencing of three years. ..soup pot… and quiet tears. Jake's sentencing of eight years. ..soup pot. Franky's fingers had bled that night from the force at which she scrubbed. Ferguson's mysterious death within the psychiatric hospital. ..soup pot washed slowly for over an hour. Each time Franky wandered aimlessly into the kitchen, Bridget left her alone.

This time it was because of the date. Today marked one year since their final court appearance and their sentencing. Their parole was officially over. When Franky got up from the table after dinner, Bridget watched her absentmindedly lean down and once again pull the pot from under the cabinet and dump it into the sink.

Bridget came up behind her and slipped her arm around Franky's waist. Franky stopped scrubbing and reached down to hold Bridget's arm into her. Their knife scars aligned when Bridget held her like that. Side and arm in duel, grotesque grins under their clothing. Neither of them minded. It was simply another way they fit perfectly together.

Bridget kissed her shoulder and smiled. "We can get rid of it, you know." She said, indicating to the soup pot.

Franky set the pot down and turned into Bridget, draping her long arms over the shorter woman's shoulders. "Nah, Gidge, it's part of our history."

Bridget raised her brow. "So we don't use it, but you take it out once in a while and scrub it?"

"I can't help it if you murdered my favorite soup pot!"

Bridget laughed at her. Teasing aside, she held the green eyes for just a moment. Her eyes were as expressive as if she said it aloud. I know what you are doing, and it's ok. She pulled Franky closer and lifted her chin. Franky grinned down at her and kissed her waiting lips. Bridget moved her lips familiarly into the brunette and idly shifted them away from the sink. She stopped when Franky's back was against the opposite counter. "No more scrubbing tonight. Come to bed."

Franky's grin broadened, unable to keep the cheekiness at bay. "Are you saying that there are better uses of my hands at the moment?"

Bridget laughed that sweet, tinkling laugh that weakened Franky's knees. She let go of Franky's waist and turned towards the bedroom. "Come and see. .."

Franky caught her hand and pulled her back suddenly. Bridget gasped and fell back into her soapy arms. Franky leaned her back to nuzzle her neck. "I love ya, Bridget Westfall!"

Bridget giggled and squirmed in delight as Franky started kissing her neck. She pushed half heartedly against her but when Franky held her tighter and breathed a groan of desire into Bridget's neck, the blonde's push became a caress. She just couldn't help it. Franky bit her earlobe, stifling her moan, when Bridget cupped her chest; squeezing her lovingly.

Bridget's breath was hitched. Franky was now using her tongue. "We aren't going to make it to the bedroom, are we?"

Franky reached one hand down and pulled Bridget's rear up against her leg. Bridget threw her head back and Franky took her neck with her other hand and continued to trail hot, wet kisses on her fiery skin. She was rapidly not caring where this woman took her. Franky grinned into her burning skin, feeling Bridget beginning to tremble. "Couch. .." She growled softly. "Then the floor. Then the bed, and then the. .."

Bridget laughed at her and allowed the brunette to back her into the living room, anticipation pounding the blood in her veins. As they fell back onto the couch that had seen it all, Franky's necklace fell from her shirt and grazed Bridget's cheek. The blonde reached up and caught it away from her face, pondering the little silver kite between her fingers. She smiled. "Free." She whispered.

Franky pressed her forehead into Bridget's, closing her eyes and sinking down onto her favorite body.

"Home." She whispered back. "Home."

The End.


End file.
